Top of the world!

Daddy says an oxo cube in the mash is flatland food
And no beard can be explained
Empty walls mean empty heads
And life is a runaway train

Give me graffiti, baby
Graffiti, Baby
Graffiti may save me from testing a nine volt battery on my tongue, yeah

What’s the story with suffering, surely (don’t call me Shirley)
There’s no let up on give
Where can you get a pizza faster than an ambulance?
Only in Ireland and where any Harlemites live

Give me graffiti, baby
Graffiti, Baby
Graffiti may save you one day from watering your Christmas tree, yeah

Ping pong
Bing bong

Lord Mayors and their wives on buy nothing day
The indelible art of sloganeers
Rose had a baby and the baby died
We don’t like your kind around here

Give me graffiti, baby
Sexy apoplexy
Apoplectic graffiti, baby
Graffiti may save you from the jumped up will to adhere, dear

Yes sir E Bob

All that guerrilla marketing, boys
All dressed up with an imagination and nowhere to go
Give me mindless pleading on behalf of the drug taking minorities
And red spray paint on the snow

Give me graffiti, baby
Graffiti, Baby
Graffiti may save you one day from the grave, you never now

[Inaudible]
The soul of revolt is here!