So the world’s gone to poo
So whatcha gonna do?
You gonna live in a bunker
Eatin’ cans of tuna chunks?
Waitin’ for the news on the radio
They’ve blown up your patio!
Yeah now it’s personal joe

Are you a slave to the newspaper
Tabloid bluesmaker
Makes you feel like crying
Like a Fred Basset punchline
I don’t want to live in fear
I just want a quiet beer
Terrorist schmerrorist
I don’t see any here
I’ve been waiting my whole life to be this age
To see this day
Hey Hey It’s Today!
1990’s was time for the guru
It’s the year zeroes and it’s time for me and you

Mum used to say ‘tidy your room
Or it’ll be world war three
It looks like a bombs gone off in there’
Well now the joke’s on me

I’m having a bad hair day
But this could be D-day
So my life’s a bit irrelevant
But just for the hell of it
I’ll focus on the big issues
We’ve run out of tissues
These carrots have died
But at least I’m alive

If we go to war
Then I’ll give them what for
If the US say yes
Then I’ll SMS an SOS
Automatic conscription
I’ll hand them a prescription
Like a uni assignment
I’m too sick for consignment
I haven’t been sleeping
With all the news that I’m reading

I could never fire a gun at another human being
Unless the gun was infra red and their head was a TV

I’m doing my washing
My underpants are moshing
I’m separating the colours and the whites
Then I realise that’s what causes all the fights
Throw them in together
Let the colours run forever
And we’ll wear the white pink socks of peace

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