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Strikes the bell for 5 o'clock, Uncle Arthur closes shop
Screws the tops on all the bottles, turns the lights out, locks it up ...
La la la la la la, la la la la la la la
A winter's day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward...
Rubber band
There's a rubber band that plays tunes out of tune
In the library garden Sunday afternoon
While a little...
Just look through your window, look who sits outside
Little me is waiting, standing through the night
When you'll walk through...
There is a happy land where only children live
They don't have the time to learn the ways Of you sir, Mr. Grownup
There's a...
[spoken]
Here is the news
According the latest world population survey
The figures have reached danger point, my...
When I live my dream, I'll take you with me
Riding on a golden horse
We'll live within my castle, with people there to serve...
War made him a soldier
Little Frankie Mear
Peace left him a loser
The little bombardier
Lines of worry appeared...
Montains of Lhasa are feeling the rain
People are walking the Botella lanes
Preacher takes the school
One boy breaks a...
Smiling girls and rosy boys
Come and buy my little toys
Monkeys made of gingerbread
And sugar horses painted red...
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Like weeds on a rockface waiting for the scythe
Ricochet - Ricochet
The world is on a corner waiting for jobs
Ricochet - Ricochet
Turn the holy pictures
so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers - March of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Men wait for news while thousands are still asleep
Dreaming of tramlines, factories, pieces of machinery
Mine shafts, things like that
March of flowers - March of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil
breaking parole
Ricochet - It's not the end of the world
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil
breaking parole
Ricochet - Ricochet
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Teaching life in a violent new way
Ricochet - Ricochet
Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Early, before the sun,
they struggle off to the gates
In their secret fearful places
they see their lives
Unravelling before them
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil
breaking parole
Ricochet
it's not the end of the world
But when they get home,
damp eyed and weary
They smile and crush their children to their heaving chests
Making unfulfillable promises
For who can bear to be forgotten
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