Оригинален текст
In the early hours walking through the precinct, he's spent all his money and now he's real skint.
He sees the video thru' the Hi-Fi shop's doors, the beer in his brain says 'go-on it's yours'.
Even though he's p*ssed and his senses have all gone, he can still hear the ringing of the alarm bell.
He looks at the damage thru' p*ssed eyes, he's got to leg it now he's got his prize.
He tries to run away but his legs don't wanna know, a voice laughs to him, it is the alcohol.
He stumbles thru' the streets not knowing where to go, a p*ssed-up idiot with an expensive video.
And he realises later when he gets home at three, it's too hot to flog and he's got no TV.