Trudging slowly over wet sand,
back to the bench where your clothes were stolen.
This is the coastal town,
that they forgot to close down.
Armageddon – come armageddon!
Come, armageddon! come!
Everyday is like Sunday.
Everyday is silent and gray.
Hide on the promenade.
Etch a postcard.
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
that they forgot to bomb.
Come, come, come – nuclear bomb.
Everyday is like Sunday.
Everyday is silent and gray.
Trudging back over pebbles and sand.
And a strange dust lands on your hands,
and on your face,
on your face,
on your face,
on your face.
Everyday is like Sunday.
Win yourself a cheap tray.
Share some greased tea with me.
Everyday is silent and gray.
