Where do we go now?

Sitting, Café, Degraves alley. Cosy up against the wall, an fuckin' Craig David screws up the graffiti scrawl cobblestone alleyway appeal. Oh, I'm so fuckin' underground now aren't I? So I'm rolling my trendy smoke an huffin' like James Dean, dead.

Memory stirs an me an Farn's in the car, I'm drivin' an we're cruisin' down Chapel St. Stereo's up real loud pourin' out cheap speakers crackle, distorted Kisssshhhh. We're winding down our windows an singin' Supergrass at the hotted up Doff Doofffers. "I wanna know where know where the strange ones go!"

'Cos where do I go now? Am I missing out on something? Graffiti all over the walls depicting decline and fall. An where is it? Where are they? The strokes are wrong man this isn't it. It's all style no appeal. Fashionista death squad. I finish my trendy flat white, the café is closing. Where do I go now?