| Business, as usual starts with the sound
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| Of another damn funeral march through the town
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| One less for Saint Nicholas, there’s nothing so vile
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| Or as sad and ridiculous as the coffin of a child
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| He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
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| That daring young man in the blue dungarees
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| Struck down by the G-force of a Semtex surprise
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| He bucks like a sea horse, keels over and dies
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| With his eyes all dramatic, glazed and confused
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| The full metal jacket, trousers and shoes
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| He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
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| That daring young man in the blue dungarees
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| And his poor pathetic parents, so stricken with grief
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| That they spelt his name wrong on his funeral wreath
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| Are appealing for no vengeance on behalf of their son
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| But they’ve already assembled and planted the bomb
|
| He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
|
| That daring young man in the blue dungarees
|
| Struck down by the G-force of a Semtex surprise
|
| He bucks like a sea horse, keels over and dies |