| Rotating head, keeps on the right side
|
| Colied up and tense remains on the lookout
|
| Expects to be shot or get given the bullet
|
| Rotating head tries to look on the bright side of things
|
| Rotating head, friends in high places
|
| No need to guess what he’s got in that briefcase
|
| A mind like a gin-trap, one swollen ankle
|
| The rotating head tries to stay on the right side of things
|
| On the right side of things
|
| Living on tip-toe
|
| Waiting for the next step
|
| The wages of death
|
| What a life for a swivelhead
|
| Understand, underhand, underarm protection
|
| Each new passer-by a new wave of suspicion
|
| In less than an hour the plane will be leaving
|
| The lights and the cameras
|
| Then sleeep on a prayer and a wing
|
| Rotating
|
| Living on tip-toe
|
| Waiting for the next step
|
| The wages of death
|
| What a life for a swivelhead
|
| Rotating head look on the bright side
|
| Colied up and tense remains on the lookout
|
| A mind like a gin-trap, one swollen ankle
|
| The rotating head tries to stay on the right side of things
|
| That’s the right side of things |