Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Tripod
Twenty twenty-two, the year of the robots
How do they spend their time, those fun-loving robots?
Building themselves a brave new world
How do they find time to oil themselves?
And who takes care of the robots' little ones?
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Robots!
Time hasn't been kind to the Wiggles
They're more machine now than man, twisted and evil
One of them is just a head in a jar
One is a projected hologram
And Jeff is cryogenically asleep
Hot potato... hot potato...
Cold spagetti... cold spagetti...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh...
Taking their place amongst the non-human race
Whirrrr... whirrrr...
The Wiggles have diversified their ways
Zzzzap....
The children are raised in bio-nutritional pods
So there's not much call for their humourous displays
The Wiggles roll around
Tending to the bug-like robot children
Humanity is just a memory on a dusty set of disks
Twenty twenty-two, the year of the Wiggles
Betraying all their friends to the powerful robots
Dorothy the Dinosaur was debunked as an evolutionist myth
And Occy the Octopus was fished to extinction
By the Japanese... the robot Japanese
The robots' terrible reign did not last for ever
A disgruntled Captain Feathersword, dissatisfied with his current weaponry
Raised an army of clones from genetic samples taken from our greatest warrior
And rescued what was left of the human race, crucifying the Wiggles for their betrayal
Holy smoke, that was close!
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Ahhh... ahhh...
Robots!