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In the land of grey and pink where only boy-scouts |
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stop to think |
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They'll be coming back again, those nasty grumbly grimblies |
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And they're climbing down your chimney, |
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yes they're trying to get in |
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Come to take your money, isn't it a sin, they's so thin |
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They've black buckets in the sky |
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Don't leave your dad in the rain |
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Cigarettes burn bright tonight |
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They'll all get washed down the drain |
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So we'll sail away for just one day to the land |
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where the punk weed grows |
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Won't need any money, just fingers and your toes |
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And when it's dark our boat will park on a land of warm |
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and green |
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Pick our fill of punk weed and smoke it till we bleed, |
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that's all we'll need |
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While sailing back in morning light |
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We'll wash our teeth in the sea |
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And when the day gets really bright |
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We'll go to seed drinking tea |
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So we'll sail away for just one day to the land |
|
where the punk weed grows |
|
Won't need any money, just fingers and your toes |
|
And when it's dark our boat will park on a land of warm |
|
and green |
|
Pick our fill of punk weed and smoke it till we bleed, |
|
that's all we'll need |
|
They've black buckets in the sky |
|
Don't leave your dad in the rain |
|
Cigarettes burn bright tonight |
|
They'll all get washed down the drain |