| Wholely naked
|
| My my worn towel serving as loin cloth
|
| Face turned red
|
| Hands clutching at soap and froth
|
| (next, next)
|
| I was barely 20
|
| And we were over 100
|
| Being the followers of the one who led
|
| (next, next)
|
| I was still 20
|
| When my innocense was revealed
|
| In a mobile brothel of an army
|
| In the field
|
| (next, next)
|
| Maybe i would have liked
|
| A little touch of tenderness
|
| Maybe a word
|
| Or maybe a caress
|
| But no
|
| (next, next)
|
| It was not waterloo
|
| And it was not arcole
|
| It was the moment
|
| When i regreted missing school
|
| (next, next)
|
| But i swear on hearing that sergeant
|
| Who was not worth tuppens
|
| It was a dirty trick that
|
| ? |
| made his armies of impotence
|
| (next, next)
|
| I swear by the head
|
| Of my first bout of syphillis
|
| It’s that voice
|
| That voice that sticks
|
| Like a fist
|
| (next, next)
|
| That voice that stinks of garlic
|
| Foul drink and crud
|
| It’s the voice of nations
|
| And the voice of blood
|
| (next, next)
|
| And since then
|
| Each woman in the heat
|
| Of succuming in my skinny arms
|
| Seems to be murmering
|
| Next, next
|
| Next deary, next sonny
|
| All the followers of the world
|
| Would hold each others hand
|
| For in my delerium, well i scream and demand
|
| He’s next… well i’m not delerious
|
| I act as a reasoner
|
| Say, it’s more humiliating to be the followed
|
| Than the follower
|
| (next, next, next, next)
|
| One day i’ll cut my legs off
|
| Or even become a nun
|
| I’ll hang anything
|
| So long as i’m not anyone
|
| Never to be next
|
| Never to be next
|
| Never to be next
|
| Next, next
|
| Please don’t pick me next
|
| Never to be next
|
| I want never… never…never…never…never…never to be next |