This managed decline won't be televised, our days are numbered on the picket line
We're destitute and we're demoralised, our suffering disguised as pride
If you won't give it, then we'll fucking take it, was told from early that we'll never make it
That this is all you'll ever be, you'll live and die on the banks of the Mersey
Our suffеring sold as pride
The memoriеs plague your mind
The river is dragged and dried
Only the dirt is real
Ghosts of the docks and the factories
Are spectres of somebody's history
The river runs everything out to sea
But we're still here
From Canning Town to Birkenhead, the working class is as good as dead
If you won't give it, then we'll fucking take it
Was told from early that we'll never make it
Our suffering sold as pride
The memories plague your mind
The river is dragged and dried
Only the dirt is real
Ghosts of the docks and the factories
Are spectres of somebody's history
The river runs everything out to sea
But we're still here
But we're still here
But we're still here
Yeah, we're still here
Our suffering sold as pride
The memories plague your mind
The river is dragged and dried
Only the dirt is real
Ghosts of the docks and the factories
Are spectres of somebody's history
The river runs everything out to sea
But we're still here
But we're still here
But we're still here
We're still here
We're still here