Fake Tales of San Francisco
Echo through the room.
More point to a wedding disco
Without a bride or groom.
There's a super cool band yeah
With their trilbies and their glasses of white wine.
And all the weekend rock-stars are in the toilets,
Practicing their lines.

I don't want to hear you.
(Kick me out)

Fake Tales of San Francisco
Echo through the air.
And there's a few bored faces in the back
All wishing they weren't there.

And as the microphone squeaks,
young girl's telephone beeps.
Yeah she's dashing for the exit
And [bad word] to the streets outside.
"Oh you've saved me," she screams down the line.
"The band were [bad word] [bad word] quot;
And I'm not having a nice time."

I don't want to hear you
(Kick me out)

Yeah but his bird thinks it's amazing, though.
So all that's left,
Is the proof that love's not only blind but deaf.

He talks of San Francisco, he's from Hunter's Bar.
I don't quite know the distance,
But I'm sure that’s far,
Yeah I'm sure that’s pretty far

And yeah, I'd love to tell you all of my problem.
You're not from New York City, you're from Rotherham,
So get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbook.