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    Everybody's pinching their guts
    Young lumps of lead, floating on the harbour
    They pick themselves up, now they're falling down again
    Big lumps of lead floating to fruition
    La la la
    Like tickets worn, sometimes stolen
    Like foreign languages, squashed into the ferry floor
    One ticklish kiss will kill the itch around our ankles
    And today moves in wave motion
    Tomorrow's failing in the bath
    And big lumps of lead, floating out to Pinchgut
    And your eyes, watching this, they begin to cry
    Your eyes, one ticklish kiss, they begin to cry
    Your eyes, lumps of lead, they begin to cry
    La la la

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