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