It's driving me crazy, this necropolis
I feel watched and dirty all the time
These nasty piles of the populous
Commit and resubmit the heinous crimes

Oh, where can we turn, I feel like a contradticion?
Oh, I start to burn, I feel subjucated to submission?

It's making me seethe this necropolis
Making me turn round and round
Suddenly, one of the populous
Guess there are no more mysteries to expound or confound

Oh, where can we turn, I feel like a common dictator?
Oh, I start to yearn, my potato features are in the perculator?

Eeh, oh, poppin chock, where shan't I go?
Peeh, oh, cockkin bock, why can't I slow?

Oh, where can we turn, I explain to the juristdition?
Oh, where can we turn, ah-ee-ah-ee-ah