The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
Dave Davies
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
Dave Davies
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
The Kinks
Dave Davies
The Kinks
There ain't no beauty
And there ain't no style
There's no quality
And there's no purity
Honour's dead and buried
Because it's unnecessary
Look at all the people
Why they all look the same
They're walking to the factory
In their cloth caps and trilbies
They've got no style
Ain't it a pity
They're tearing old quality down
Without any pity
Now they're coming to take me away
To Scrapheap City
They say that good manners belong on a heap
They say they're outdated and they're obsolete
And now they're coming to take me away
To Scrapheap City
There's no quality
And there ain't no style
Just miles and miles
Of Scrapheap piles
There's no quality
And there's no purity
They're digging up all of the flowers because they look pretty
And erecting identical concrete monstrosities
They're killing off all of the animals too
The only ones left are the ones in the zoo
Now they're coming to take me away
To Scrapheap City
Ain't it a pity
Scrapheap City
Scrapheap City
Scrapheap City
Scrapheap City
Scrapheap City