| They’re dropping bombs again
|
| And they’re doing it in your name
|
| All the rational commentaries
|
| In the papers that I read
|
| Marmalade and buttered toast
|
| And smell of Sunday roast
|
| Kiss the arse of Uncle Sam
|
| Oh to be an Englishman
|
| When you hear the sound of warning
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| When the only colour is red
|
| Red sky in the morning
|
| Everywhere I’m seeing red
|
| Dawn brings a day of hell
|
| Hours that we pawn and sell
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| A single magpie in the tree
|
| One for sorrow one for me
|
| Kick it off the cliff I said
|
| Now the line fucks up my head
|
| Too late to change this mode
|
| Break all my moral codes
|
| When you hear the sound of warning
|
| When the only colour is red
|
| Red sky in the morning
|
| Everywhere I’m seeing red
|
| Running from myself again
|
| And all I feel is shame
|
| It doesn’t matter where I go
|
| Everywhere still looks the same
|
| This sense of emptiness
|
| As we create this mess
|
| Self-destructive tendencies
|
| Are what you mean to me
|
| When you hear the sound of warning
|
| When the only colour is red
|
| Red sky in the morning
|
| Everywhere I’m seeing red |