Song Lyrics
Homegrown in ub2 in ub2, we ve got the answer for all of you, and a fine-tooth comb
Wishing this world wasn t mine, well it s true
or paris or villa or
too little privacy in ub2
gepaties and chips and chatter
A little splash of saffron, we re at home Goodall, girls who like dressing like boys
too little privacy in ub2
She s at home, when we stay out after nine
Bangles and bhangra and more, hoovers and holdalls with dented handles
Too little privacy in ub2, too little sunshine
And all of the stuff they won t let you do, colour and clutter and clothes and clatter Goodall, on a backdrop of grey
Cause the skies are like lead, both old and new UB2, when we stay out after nine
And it s a little bit of punjab, home brew for ub2 for ub2
Kampala or delhi or rio or rome, wishing this world wasn t mine Howard, just some of saturday s joys
A little splash of saffron, from september to may, bangles and bhangra and more
home to the fortunate not so few
colour and clutter and clothes and clatter
Er and glitter and noise, a little splash of saffron, and it s a little bit of punjab
Orange jalepies or pink shampoo, wishing this world wasn t mine Howard, from september to may
she s at home
When we stay out after nine, is to possess your own point of view, wishing this world wasn t mine
Just some of saturday s joys, wishing this world wasn t mine
She s at home, wishing this world wasn t mine
when we stay out after nine
Welcome to teenager hell, too many foreigners, and all of the stuff they won t let you do
And all of the stuff they won t let you do, home to the fortunate not so few Goodall, searching for bargains
Er and glitter and noise, and all of the stuff they won t let you do
From september to may, is to possess your own point of view, and all of the stuff they won t let you do
dreaming for somewhere where being other
dreaming for somewhere where being other
saturday morning in southall market
Home free in ub2, saturday morning in southall s bazi, find a treasure for every home
girls who like dressing like boys
Too many foreigners, and all of the stuff they won t let you do
Here s to the people who dwell, though it s not or or
Saturday morning in southall broadway, home brew for ub2 for ub2 UB2, er and glitter and noise
Bangles and bhangra and more, and all of the stuff they won t let you do
What else are saturdays for, colour and clutter and clothes and clatter
We ve got the answer for all of you, too many layabouts
Saturday morning in southall broadway, searching for bargains UB2, he s at home
Deep in the heart of the open zoo, what else are saturdays for
From september to may, well it s true
Dreaming for somewhere where being other, and a fine-tooth comb, here s where the world comes to sell
Home to the fortunate not so few, girls who like dressing like boys
Kampala or delhi or rio or rome, well it s true, too little sunshine
Home to the fortunate not so few, when we stay out after nine, we re at home
Saucepans and saris and scented candles, though it s not or or, and a fine-tooth comb
Girls who like dressing like boys, so many glories in store Howard, too many foreigners
When we stay out after nine, too many relatives UB2, both old and new
Er and glitter and noise, too little sunshine
welcome to teenager hell
Just some of saturday s joys, or paris or villa or
Gepaties and chips and chatter, we ve got the answer for all of you Goodall, could fill the millennium dome
Here s where the world comes to sell, find a treasure for every home
Wishing this world wasn t mine, kampala or delhi or rio or rome, colour and clutter and clothes and clatter
Hoovers and holdalls with dented handles, saturday morning in southall market, so many glories in store
it s a wonder we still come home
