| And the women tug their hair
|
| Like they’re trying to prove it wont 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 |