Lyrics
Wake up on Sunday morning
Everything feels so boring
Is that where it ends
Live your life thru a lens
Hair is the new hat, brown is the new black
She shouldn't wear this he shouldn't wear that
Pleasure at leisure make mine a double
measure with friends
Fashion tardis down at Quo Vadis
Who laughs the longest who drives the hardest
Pleasure at leisure make mine a double
measure with friends
Just because I ain't double barrelled
Don't mean I haven't travelled well
Can't you tell!
Oh no it's quite appalling
Your conversation is boring as hell, oh well!
Wake up on Sunday morning
And everything feels so boring
Is that where it ends
With your life thru a lens
And now your boyfriend's suspicious
So go home and wash the dishes
And wash them well so he can't tell
She's looking real drab just out of rehab
I'm talking football she's talking ab fab
Your clothes are very kitch
Just because your daddy is rich
You sound so funny with your voice all plummy
Now your cheque's just bounced better run
to your mummy
And you know it's a class act she'll never
ask for it back
Just because I ain't double barelled
Don't mean I haven't travelled well
Can't you tell!
Mix with the local gentry and don't crash
Tarquin's Bentley
I'll take the bends with our life thru a lens
You're scared of the poor and needy
Is that why you're all inbreedy?
They're just like you, they need love too
Wake up on Sunday morning
And everything feels so boring
Is that where it ends
With your life thru a lens
And now your boyfriend's suspicious
So go home and wash the dishes
And wash them well so he can't tell
Credits
Vocals
Robbie Williams
Written By
Robbie Williams, Guy Chambers
Band
Andre Barreau (Backing Vocals)
Chris Sharrock (Drums)
Fil Eisler (Guitar, Bass)
Gary Nuttall (Backing Vocals)
Gavyn Wright (London Session Orchestra)
Guy Chambers (Keyboard, Guitar)
Jim Brumby (Backward Cacophony)
Steve McEwan (Backing Vocals)
