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After many weeks in the wilderness, We came upon a strange and exotic land, A land of happy hours where the sky is always grey And the food exceptionally greasy. We drank strange dark brown liquids And our stomachs swelled up like balloons. A thousand fake orgasms every night behind the thick dralon curtains. They go on and on and on and on and on. We sank back into mauve P.V.C. sofas, Outside the dogs roamed the streets And the rooftops glistened with rain But now we have grown so fat we can no longer pass through the door. So stay we must, Sprouting black hair beneath bri-nylon undwear. Yes, here we will stay 'cos nights of suburbia go on and on and on. Oh. |