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Hey modern days, here we come |
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But our feet are swollen and we got no place to stay |
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But we hope it would still be okay |
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'cos we brought champagne |
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and we thought that there must be sleeping bags |
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(in this very modern day) |
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But we're all very proud to be here today |
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The first of a thousand million modern days |
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'Cos it's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
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It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
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It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
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on the century's crime |
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Well, it's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
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It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
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It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
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on the century's crime |
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Hey modern days, we are taken a-back |
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We're a flame and a-gog, aloof and inhaled |
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with a don-don briefcase, oh, wait for our call |
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And I therefore shall declare |
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that the stores shall be locked no more |
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(no more), no more, (no more) |
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Why shall men suffer, why shall there be freaks? |
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Why am I still rehearsing a song when I oughta sleep? |
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'Cos it's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
|
It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
|
It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
|
on the century's crime |
|
Well, it's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
|
It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
|
It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
|
on the century's crime |
|
Oh, chin-batty dour face, why did you go there? |
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Sitting on a cold stone, waiting for the train home |
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Hoping it would carry me home |
|
hoping you would carry me home |
|
Well, it's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
|
It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
|
It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
|
on the century's crime |
|
It's a scam, it's a royal kind of wham-bam figure |
|
It's abrieved in the sense of being up-john and senseless |
|
It's a see-saw sickness, it's a snake-bite, low-chant jive |
|
on the century's crime |
|
Chin-batty dour face, why did you go there? |
|
Sitting on a cold stone, waiting for the train home |
|
Hoping that the wind blows in the right direction |
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Hoping someone's calling, offering protection |
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Chin-batty dour face, why did you go there? |
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Sitting on a cold stone, waiting for the train home |
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Hoping that the wind blows in the right direction |
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Hoping someone's calling, offering erection |
