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It’s six o’clock on the dot
And I’m half way home
I feel foul mouthed as I stand
And wait for the underground
And a nervous disposition
Doesn’t agree with this
I need something to remind me
That there is something else

You need a holiday somewhere in the sun
With all the people who are waiting
There never seems to be one
Say something, say something else

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For rapid persuasion.
If you stare too long
You lose your appetite.
A nervous disposition
Doesn’t agree with this
You need a fast relief from aches
And stomach pains

I need a holiday somewhere in the sun
With all the people who are waiting
There never seems to be one
Say something, say something else