I only know what'cha want
I only know what'cha need
my mind's not shit
before U know it, anyone's not fuckin' with my nineteen girls

You f-f-f-fucked up, fucked up, fucked my Christmas
I've seen you later
Oh shit, oh fuckin' shit
Maybe i'm poop and homeless

If I'm rightly dying of NHS
then i'm drunk off my tits
tits, yeah tits, are my Billy Idol
needn't no Rebel Yell
i'm like Kurt Cobain
I need some Irish beers to rot my teeth

You f-f-f-f-fucked up my Christmas
You f-f-f-fucked up my Christmas (that ain't funny)
I've seen to sex myself
I'm 24 and I am half-Liverpudlian
Alright la, now I ain't fucked up on Diet Cola
just like Syd Barrett and Jennifer Aniston
livin' it fresh just like Huey Lewis
(GUITAR SOLO):
Wah-wah-wah-wee-widdly-widdly-wah-wah-d-d-d-d-diddly-dum-dah-did-wah-doo-wah
wah-wah-wah-wah-doo-diddly-do
Now then after Christmas 1995 I am gonna cry after this song it's actually in the end of this song
Look out for some bad language
You f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-fucked up, you fucked up my Christmas
You f-f-f-fucked up my Christmas Hey
something's gonna change than I sure fuck wit' nobody
get down, get down and feel the noise

Now girlfriend
where are the keys, i'm gonna cry fucking angrily
oh, here they are

(SOBS):
I hate Christmas, Christmas fills me with angst and regret
Oh up yours Christmas




























































































































































And now i'm off
UP YOURS CHRISTMAS