Fm
To be strung up on a leafless tree,
Where everything dies and nothing grows.
G＃
Hanging like molding fruit,
On e last dance whilst you decompose.
Fm
On come the Paddington spectacles,
A black plague over all I admired.
(A vegetable breakfast) a hearty choke,
S eems like the whole wo rld conspired.
E♭
But there stood a man,
He was cut up, distraught and cold.
But amongst the wreckage of his rib cage,
His heart still thudded as he said:
'I regard myself as a soldier,
Though a soldier of peace.
I know the value of discipline and truth.
I must ask you to beli eve me when I say…'
No matter if it all backfires, (backfires!)
No matter if it all goes wrong!
W e just gotta get ourselves together,
We've sat still for far too long!
Now this ain't over yet.
As far as I can see:
We've only just begun
Ooh bleh!
