 Upon the heath we sit,
Trying to make some sense of it.
These mushrooms help a bit -
Help us think how we ought to think.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
Theres nothing in our way,
We've nothing left to fear.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
Down into town we stroll.
I suggest no more Rock and Roll.
Canary Wharf, our Christmas tree,
Sucking up electricity.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
Theres nothing in our way,
We've nothing left to fear.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
Not that I can see.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
Theres nothing in our way,
We've nothing left to fear.
Theres nothing in our way
And no-ones dying here.
I see battenburg houses,
And nightclub skies.
I hear nursery rhymes.
They fill my eyes that write these lines.
I see battenburg houses,
Nightclub skies.
I hear nursery rhymes.
They fill my eyes, write these lines.
Battenburg houses,
And nightclub skies.
Nursery rhymes,
Words that rhyme.
Fill my eyes, write these lines.
Battenburg houses,
Nightclub skies.
Nursery rhymes.
Fill my eyes, write these lines.
Down into town we stroll.
Down into town we stroll.
Upon the heath we sit.
Upon the heath we sit.
Down into town we stroll,
I insist, no more Rock and Roll.
No more Rock and Roll.
No more Rock and Roll.
No more Rock and Roll.
No more Rock and Roll.
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