The World of Night

One, two, testing, one two three
I hate the world and world hates me
I’ve got tats, I make gang signs
Even when I don’t know what they mean
I’m a gangster, I do drugs
Obey all the laws, and I stay clean
I’m so scared I lost my lunch
Where’s your truncheon, Mr Punch?
Never wear a colour cos a colour is gay
Never wear yellow when there’s mustard grey
Stay on the right side of the right
Dress for the world, the world of night
Where’s the flood, where’s the flood?
Where’s the fucking riot, where’s the river of blood
Where’s your truncheon, Mr Punch, hang about I’ve lost my lunch
Dress like a robber and the robbers won’t strike
Dress in black for the world of night
Who’s got a whip? You’ve got a whip?
I’ve got a whip stinging on my back
We all stare, we’re all hard, we’re all their security guards
Dress in fat in wobbly fat
Tickled for the top with a whoosh
You’re a tool, I’m a tool, we’re all tools for the fools by the pool
We all stare, we’re all hard, we’re all their security guards
Merge with the crowd, shout with the loud
Don’t stand out, that’s not allowed
Where’s the flood, where’s the flood?
Where’s the fucking riot, where’s the river of blood
Never wear a colour cos the colour is gay
Never wear yellow when there’s mustard grey
Stay on the right side of the right
Dress for the world, the world of night
Where’s the flood, where’s the flood?
Where’s the fucking riot, where’s the river of blood
Where’s your truncheon, Mr Punch, hang about I’ve lost my lunch
I’m the baboon in the Mossad shades
I’m the goon in the CIA
Let’s all dress like the idiots attacking
When all we’re the idiots under attack
They’ve got prisons and I take two lumps
Two lumps of the mud from the toxic dump
I’m the goon in the CIA
At the 11th Olympiad
Never wear a colour, cos a colour is gay
Never wear pink when there’s black and grey
Stay on the right side of the right
Dress for the world, the world of night
Merge with the crowd, shout with the loud
Don’t stand out, it’s a sin to be proud
They’ve got prisons, I’ve got lumps
Where’s your truncheon Mr Punch