|
We head downhill |
|
Our hands fly back |
|
Our fingers freeze |
|
Our hair falls out, our hair falls out |
|
Our fingers freeze |
|
Our hair falls out |
|
The iron piston pumps and spouts |
|
The steaming air as hot as sprouts |
|
Ah, all aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
The ones on top are comfortable (Yeah) |
|
They're sitting on a human chain, a human chain |
|
They're sitting on a human chain |
|
Their limbs, compressed in icy slush, |
|
Are freezing in a raw meat groove |
|
Ah, all aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
Please don't call me Reg |
|
It's not my name |
|
The bodies rear the bucking sled |
|
Which hits a tree |
|
And falls asleep, and falls asleep |
|
Which hits a tree |
|
And that is that |
|
The grasshoppers curl up and burst |
|
And Brenda shovels on the wurst |
|
Ah, all aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
Please don't call me Reg |
|
It's not my name |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
All aboard |
|
Brenda's iron sledge |
|
Please don't call me Reg |
|
It's not my name |
