Tickle me pink I'm rosy as a flushed red apple skin 'xept I've never been as sweet I've rolled around the orchard and found myself too awkward and tickle
In the shadows of a darkened room The shadow's gone despite the gloom And the soul that casted never made the grade He tripped upon a tripping fence,
Time rolls the back wheels of my mind You helped me put the brakes on 'cos you're kind I wonder where you learned to be so good I wonder if I'm doing
There's a man at hand There's a way between With the sinking sand And a crooked dream And collared off at the modern age of nine Summoned up for walking
I've been drooling at some mangy scraps of bread And these hungry voices make a lot of noise inside my head Show me the way to the rubbish dump or the
*One, two, three, four* Standing on the west side of your cliff, bury a ghost Doesn't the north wind make your fingers stiff, who lost the most Lead
Keep your windows down Catch a chill if you will To turn a trick or two And learn something new Turn your colour brown Be alright for a night I'll drive
There are ten thousand graves in Hong Kong Protestant Cemetery Every one of them says "born and died, and the rest might be history" Walking there I'd
Well I'm sure you're near And I can almost smell you But the winds are up at the walls again I can hear you coming Heaven helped you coming I believe
Rob lived in a box by the rails Only thing you use, you don't fail When you live in a box by the rails Don't comb your hair, don't comb your tail Sweep
This is the calendar These are the dates You know you'll be, you won't know what you'll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from
They're taking pictures of the man from God I hope his cassock's clean The burden of being our holy fellas Your halo'd better gleam, better gleam What
Snared about her winsome glance And mad about the town Kicking heels has lost its charm and every boy's a clown Leave a trail of dusted boots and choose
I saw prayers being made with, plastic rosaries. Carpets laid, no thought for furniture. All the dogs are lying down, All the dogs are lying. All the
She wore lines from the senses Her ancestors gave her And broke both her arms In the honour of industry And though people wept At the picture of helplessness
Shore to shore, got some land between Island life is living from a cup of broken queens Hit the jackpot rolling through a pipe dream in a knot And I'm
Översättning: Cook, Barbara. Errol Flynn.
Översättning: The Clash. Sean Flynn.