The morning after, the revolutionnP.C 1525 told me there was no real solutionnBruised ribs and a ripped up jacketnMoney all in the roadnSat down with a big fat macnScreaming 'what about my way home?'nnWe're gonna get out the citynWe're gonna get out the waynWe've got cash in the kittynWe're gonna get on a planenGotta get onnGotta get onnnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real worldnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real worldnnGettin' back to a empty flatnHacked up and even morenScrewed up wrappers from a take away dinnernScattered all over the floornThis isn't glamorousnIt's not rock and rollnThis is England on a Saturday nightnThis is a nation's soulnnWe're gonna get out the citynWe're gonna get out the waynWe've got cash in the kittynWe're gonna get on a planenGotta get onnGotta get onnnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you livenIn the real worldnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you livenIn the real worldnnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real worldnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real worldnnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real worldnThere's no time for tearsnWhen you live in the real world