Get Out of London Pretenders

Hold tight
Monday morning, wake up yawning
Break an egg, bust my head, maybe it's a warning

Ring on the bell
Says it's half past eight
Kees on the TV, hey, I'm gonna be late

I'm walking on the pavement
Skipping on the lines
So the bears won't eat me
Send me to the salt mines
Get on the bus
But the bus don't start

My feet are sitting down
My head on the top
I can't see out the window 'cause there ain't no sun
I think somebody's telling me to g-g-g-g-get out of London

My feets keep moving and I don't wear any socks
Can't stop singing, head ting-a-linging

I left my house, now I hang out in a phone box
Making coffins out of bits of old wood