I have an upset stomach, like a neighborhood dog, and a leaky faucet, in an eastern block.
Sing, sing, song, bang, go!
Toots ready, come on!
Sing, song, bang, go!
Dance under the bomb, yeah!
I'm a combat prophet, I'm an asexual.
Bomb, I'm a trick of culture, and I'm a trick of calm.
Sing, sing, song, bang, go!
Toots ready, come on!
Sing, song, bang, go!
Dance under the bomb, yeah!
I see red light, I see red light.
Sing, sing, song, bang, go!
Toots ready, come on!
Sing, song, bang, go!
Dance under the bomb, yeah!
1, 2, 3, 4
Have a great day, folks
In the clinic hall
Have a deal, the profit
And pin them on the wall
