I'll tell the story of the shun young five men, they made a ruckus again and again
Cuz every morning in their small town, they sung and played and shouted too loud
The same song every day and every night, a joyful melody, glad and bright
But all the village elders they grew - weary of this monotonous tune
That the young ones played, the elders they made, a collossal blockade

Good morning boys, the youngest said. "Get out of bed, joy to be spread"
But then he saw the massive wall, and said
"Well, first we'll tear this down because this clearly is a big mistake"
"While I do this, why don't you boys play me a song to keep me awake?"

And as the wall crumbled, five shun young men
Marched in line, played a song so fine
The elders didn't know what to say or think, when five boys came marching in, in sync
One closed his eyes in melancholy, hoping they wouldn't play this melody

The boys said: "Look how happy they are now. There's one even crying, in relief cause we're here"

Nananananananana, nananananananana
Nananananananana, nanananananana

Nananananananana, nananananananana
Nananananananana, nananananananana