Fake Tales of San FrancisconEcho through the roomnMore point to a wedding disconWithout a bride or groomnnThere's a super cool band yeahnWith their trilbys and their glasses of white winenAnd all the weekend rock stars in the toiletsnPracticing their linesnnI don't want to hear youn(Kick me out, kick me out)nI don't want to hear you non(Kick me out, kick me out)nnFake Tales of San FrancisconEcho through the airnAnd there's a few bored faces in the backnAll wishing they weren't therennAnd as the microphone squeaksnA young girl's telephone beepsnYeah she's dashing for the exitnshe's running to the streets outsidenOh you've saved me, she screams down the linenThe band weren’t very goodnAnd I'm not having a nice time”nnYeah but his bird thinks it's amazing, thoughnSo all that's leftnIs the proof that love's not only blind but deafnnHe talks of San Francisco, he's from Hunter's BarnI don't quite know the distancenBut I'm sure that's farnI'm sure that's pretty farnnI'd love to tell you all my problemnYou're not from New York City, you're from RotherhamnSo get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbooknnGet off the bandwagon and put down the handbook