Neon Dive Nights

Lyrics

(Verse 1) Back in ’88 in Mary’s boozin’ dive, She poured pints, talked shite, barely kept folk alive, Then in strutted Jim wi a face like trouble and sin, Mary clocked the daft bastard and thought, “Aye… I’m ridin’ him.” Sneakin’ up the back stairs when Denis fucked off home, While he’s watchin’ the telly, they’re rattlin’ Mary’s foam, Denis sittin’ clueless like a poor daft sod, While Jim’s upstairs thinkin’ he’s the chosen one by God. ⸻ (Chorus) Oh Jim and Mary, two toxic old farts, Built a whole marriage on lies and horny starts, Fighting, shoutin’, swearin’ till the neighbours lose the will, A love story written in Buckfast and regret and pills. ⸻ (Verse 2) Mary had two weans that were feral as fuck, Brian was bad but Estelle was pure bad luck, That lassie hit polis like it was a bloody sport, Pished oot her skull shoutin’, “Take me tae the court!” Lost her licence drink drivin’, causin’ scenes galore, Poor Jim standin’ greetin’ thinkin’, “I cannae take much more,” But he stayed like a mug through the chaos and grief, Probably too knackered tae pack up and leave. ⸻ (Verse 3) They married in ’89, registry job done quick, Probably still stinkin’ of lager and cigarette flicks, Mary strutted doon the aisle wi her chest leading first, Jim thought he’d died and gone tae some dirty wee church. Mary loved designer bags and sparkly shite galore, Spent money like a drunken sailor in a Gucci store, She’d rather eat gravel and lick a bus stop rail, Than set foot in Poundland’s bargain sale. Jim just sighed, “There goes ma bloody wage,” While Mary’s flexin’ jewellery like she’s royalty on stage, He wanted slippers, telly, maybe sausage rolls, She wanted diamonds bigger than his knackered old soul. ⸻ (Chorus) Oh Jim and Mary, two toxic old farts, Built a whole marriage on lies and horny starts, Fighting, shoutin’, swearin’ till the neighbours lose the will, A love story written in Buckfast and regret and pills. ⸻ (Verse 4) Now they’re both in their seventies, bodies falling tae bits, Jim’s feet look like they’ve wrestled twenty bags of bricks, Chest wheezin’ louder than a broken kettle scream, While Mary’s hands are rattlin’ like she’s mixin’ phantom cream. They sleep in separate beds — romance deid and buried, Jim’s downstairs mutterin’, “Fuck sake… I miss Mary,” Not for the naggin’ or the handbag debt she brings, Just memories of her chest and simpler filthy things. But his engine’s packed in — won’t even start or cough, Like a lawnmower abandoned and rusted right off, He stares at the ceiling like a tragic old git, Thinkin’, “Those were the days… now ma dick’s on strike and quit.” ⸻ (Bridge) They still scream insults across the landing at night, Arguin’ who lost the remote and who started the fight, Callin’ each other arseholes, bastards, and worse, But panic if the other one doesnae answer the first. ⸻ (Final Chorus) Oh Jim and Mary, two stubborn old wrecks, Held together by memories, shouting, and tax cheques, From dirty wee secrets tae mobility scooters and tea, Still swearin’, still fightin’, still weirdly meant tae be