Paris, Ghana has a mountain bike For once a year, a six-week rideSometimes I hate this, but then again The money's good, I can't complainThe Greek asks for a cigarette He's the one to always swearYou live by brass, I painted tars Way ahead of all this rubbish, modern artThis rubbish, modern artDid you see them lose the juice they gained?A tale of grief that's been a shame Last second's girl did end a dreamCan't blame it on the hotel team Unseated, you see, I used to draw cartoonsWhen I was young, I used to draw cartoons When I was young, I used to draw cartoonsgot off my ship that's when lost fight I can recall still few years left to chasethese dreams adriftfive past seven clear blue sky spring just kissed the factory wallsour sights are having a quick smokealphabet the same old jokeuntil the sirens callLaurence stashes everywhere we all do nowbut the world cares as long as thatwill get her backevery daywhen's our best girl said my friend and mewe did her rather than unsubscribe from promised landwhat kind frame between the linessaid it pretty muchlike hell on earth to mesaid it pretty muchlike hell on earth to mesaid it pretty much like hell on earth to mesaid it pretty much like hell on earth to mefive past seven clear blue skyevening sun just kissed the factory wallsour sights are having a last smokeit's still the same old jokeuntil the sirens calluntil the sirens call againuntil the sirens callthe sirens callyou