| Oh what a commotion, bodies in the street
|
| Snipers in the yard, Jiminy cricket
|
| Everyone’s at large bucket and a spade
|
| Baling
|
| Oh what a commotion, bruisers on the beat
|
| Policemen on the prowl, stickety wicket
|
| Oh what a drag, everyone’s at sea
|
| Whaling
|
| Give us a hint or a clue
|
| Where do we start from
|
| And where do we go to
|
| Give us a light in the cold
|
| Merlin our fortune be told
|
| Sentimental memories won’t do
|
| In nineteen eighty two
|
| When we will crawl like lice
|
| Beneath a blade of hate
|
| (Not nice)
|
| And you my friend will feel like in a zoo
|
| Hey monkey, is it true?
|
| And I won’t know, not I
|
| 'Cause you’ll be me, uh, uh, and I’ll be you
|
| Buh, buh, uhup, bu, hup
|
| Talkin' 'bout disaster
|
| 'Cauliflower, turnip peels
|
| Rotten eggs and spew
|
| Old tin cans and bottle tops
|
| And cabbage, plastic glue
|
| Poka mola soft soapola choca rocka stew
|
| Mix’em up and melt them down
|
| So there’s your little clue, look out
|
| Sunny disaster, sunny disaster
|
| Disaster can be fun
|
| If you give up lettuce
|
| Give up smell touch
|
| Sunday lunch
|
| Disaster can be nice
|
| If you give up breathing
|
| Give up hope, T. V
|
| And the radio
|
| Disaster can be very nice
|
| If you simply live like lice
|
| Disaster can be very nice
|
| (Sunny disaster) |