The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
The Proclaimers
A crumbling Georgian folly
Fantastic shapes absurd
An aging border collie
With lots of sheep to herd
A mind that holds opposing views
It's every woman's right to choose
The Tasman Sea from high above
A pigeon flying down Wall Street
The day before the crash
The players we'd be signing
If we but had the cash
The front door bell begins to ring
You can't have chips with everything
The Bossa Nova starts to trend
It's how the world will end
It's not very hard to try
To think of superman as bi
I think that we all knew
But it's news to Nietzsche
(News to Nietzschе, news to Nietzsche)
In еvery major city
In fact, in every town
You see those wee allotments
Where they grow new pronouns
Some grow up stunted, some grow tall
Some never seem to grow at all
Those ones are thrown into a well
The front door bell begins to ring
You can't have chips with everything
The Bossa Nova starts to trend
It's how the world will end