Hate for Sale - The Pretenders

Hate for sale

Hate for sale

He won’t get hung or go to jail

He’s got a curly tongue and a curly tail

But mostly he has hate for sale

Call it luck or inherited title

A guy like that is arrogant, idle

He takes and gets whatever he likes

Women, cars and motorbikes

He dines on calves, butchered and bled

Tankards of wine, burgundy red

Handmade suits and shoes and socks

Ooh, his breath could stop the clocks

Ooh, here he comes

He’s so predictable

Hate for sale

Hate for sale

He won’t get hung or go to jail

He’s got a curly tongue and a curly tail

He’s got a curly tongue and a curly tail

Money in the bank and coke in his pocket

Porn all day, wanks like a rocket

Teeth capped, ooh, he goes to the gym

Chest waxed, ooh, I look like him

Hate for sale

Hate for sale

Hate for sale

Hate for sale