| Trudging slowly over wet sand, back to the bench
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| Where your clothes were stolen
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| This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down
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| Armageddon, come Armageddon, come Armageddon, come
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| Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is silent and gray
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| Hide on the promenade scratch out a postcard
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| And how I dearly wish I was not here
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| In the seaside town that they forgot to bomb
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| Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
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| Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is silent and gray
|
| Trudging back over pebbles and sand
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| And a strange dust lands on your hands and on your face
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| On your face, on your face, on your face
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| Everyday is like Sunday, win yourself a cheap tray
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| Share some greased tea with me, everyday is silent and grey
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| Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is like Sunday
|
| Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is like Sunday |