|
(Heaton/Rotheray) |
|
And the women tug their hair |
|
Like they're trying to prove it won't fall out |
|
And all the men are gargoyles |
|
Dipped long in Irish stout |
|
The whole place is pickled |
|
The people are pickles for sure |
|
And no-one knows if they've done more here |
|
Than they ever would do in a jar |
|
This could be Rotterdam or anywhere |
|
Liverpool or Rome |
|
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere |
|
Anywhere alone |
|
Anywhere alone |
|
And everyone is blonde |
|
And everyone is beautiful |
|
and when blondes and beautiful are multiple |
|
they become so dull and dutiful |
|
And when faced with dull and dutiful |
|
They fire red warning flares |
|
Battle-Khaki personality |
|
With red underwear |
|
This could be Rotterdam or anywhere |
|
Liverpool or Rome |
|
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere |
|
Anywhere alone |
|
Anywhere alone |
|
The whole place is pickled |
|
The people are pickles for sure |
|
And no-one knows if they've done more here |
|
Than they ever would do in a jar |
|
This could be Rotterdam or anywhere |
|
Liverpool or Rome |
|
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere |
|
Anywhere alone |
|
This could be Rotterdam or anywhere |
|
Liverpool or Rome |
|
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere |
|
Anywhere alone |
