| 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
|
| 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
|
| 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?
|
| '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
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| 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?
|
| 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 |