Hey, your tea's ready now you mustn't be late You know you got to be at work at half-past eight Get up, get dressed, that bit you always hate You got to hit the gas ‘cos the time won't wait
Subterranean sunrise Take that light outa my eyes Subterranean sunrise
You drag your way down the stairs in your gloom You find yourself in a sunny front room Look through the kitchen as the oven goes boom! Oh, flower-patterned armchairs in a wall-papered tomb (headline!)
Feed the starving millions', what does it take? “Clean up the garden,” “Buddy, gimme a break”
Then he starts to thinking, “What's the meaning of life?” A bungalow in bricktown with a fork and a knife? Search in the mirror, the clock on the wall It never should have worked out this way at all
Headline!
Who's got the money, he's counting his stash He'd be hardly worth nothing if it weren't for his cash
The king was sitting counting his load Wondering what to do about the state of his abode
Oh, the silver needed shining one more time It's another good morning, buddy spare me a dime (Oh, lard!)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
