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Everybody wants to dance in a playpen |
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But nobody wants to play in my garden |
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I see the hippies on an angry line |
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Guess they don't get my meaning |
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I'm enchanted by the birds and the blossoms |
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I'm enamored by young lovers on the weekend |
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I like the Fourth of July |
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When the bombs start flashing |
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And I wish I had a shiny red top |
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A bugle with a big brass bell would cheer me up |
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Or maybe something bigger that could really go pop |
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So I could make the gardening stop |
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Come out to play |
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Come out to play |
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And we'll pretend it's Christmas day |
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In my atomic garden |
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All my scientists are working on a deadline |
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So my psychologist is working day and nighttime |
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They say they know what's best for me |
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But they don't know what they're doing |
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And I'm glad I'm not Gorbachev |
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'Cause I'd wiggle all night like jelly in a pot |
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At least he's got a garden with a fertile plot |
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And a party that will never stop |
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Come out to play |
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Come out to play |
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And we'll pretend it's Christmas day |
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In my atomic garden |
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I hope there's nothing wrong out there |
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I'm watching from my room inside my room |
