Trudging slowly over wet sand back to the bench where your clothes
were stolen. This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down.
Armageddon - come armageddon! Come, armageddon! Come! Hide
on the promenade, etch a postcard: How I dearly wish I was not here
in theseaside town … that they forgot to bomb. Come, come, come -
nuclearbomb. Trudging back over pebbles and sand and a strange dust
lands on your hands.
(and on your face…)
(on your face …)
(on your face …)
(on your face …)
Everyday is like sunday. Win yourself a cheap tray.
Share some greased tea with me. Everyday is silent and grey.
(lyrics by Morrissey, various media by Albert Allgaier)