| It’s 1977 and we are going mad
|
| It’s 1977 and we’ve seen too many ads
|
| It’s 1977 and we’re gonna show them all
|
| Apathy’s a drag
|
| My mind is like a plastic bag
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| That corresponds to all those ads
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| It sucks up all the rubbish
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| That is fed in through by ear
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| I eat kleenex for breakfast
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| And I use soft hygienic Weetabix
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| To dry my tears
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| 1977 and we are going mad
|
| It’s 1977 and we’ve seen too many ads
|
| 1977 and we’re gonna show them all
|
| Apathy’s a drag
|
| My mind is like a switchboard
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| With crossed and tangled lines
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| Contented with confusion
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| That is plugged into my head
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| I don’t know what’s going on
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| It’s the operators job, not mine
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| I said
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| It’s 1977 and we are going mad
|
| It’s 1977 and we’ve seen to many ads
|
| It’s 1977 and we’re gonna show them all
|
| Apathy’s a drag
|
| My dreams I daren’t remember
|
| Or tell you what I’ve seen
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| I dreamt that I was Hitler
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| The ruler of the sea
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| The ruler of the universe
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| The ruler of the supermarkets
|
| And even fatalistic me
|
| It’s 1977 and we are going mad
|
| It’s 1977 and we’ve seen too many ads
|
| It’s 1977 and we’re gonna show them all
|
| Apathy’s a drag! |