Out of bed at eight AM 
Out my head by half past ten 
Out with mates and dates and friends 
That's what I do at weekends 

I can't talk and I can't walk 
But I know where I'm going to go 
I'm going watch my money go 
At the Locarno

When my feet go through the door 
I know what my right arm is for 
Buy a drink and pull a chair 
Up to the edge of the dance floor 

Bouncers bouncing through the night 
Trying to stop or start a fight 
I sit and watch the flashing lights 
Moving legs in footless tights 

I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning 
I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning 

I like to venture into town 
I like to get a few drinks down 
The floor gets packed the bar gets full 
I don't like life when things get dull 

The hen party have saved the night 
And freed themselves from [bad word] stags 
Having fun and dancing
In a circle round their leather bags 

I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning 
I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning 

But two o'clock [bad word] again 
It's time to leave this paradise 
Hope the chip shop isn't closed 
Cos' their pies are really nice 

I'll eat in the taxi queue 
Standing in someone else's spew 
Wish I had lipstick on my shirt 
Instead of [bad word] stains on my shoes 

I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning 
I go out on Friday night
And [bad word] home on Saturday morning