Texty: Big Country. Why The Long Face. Post Nuclear Talking Blues.
I don't have the magnetism of a national hero
I'm not desperate enough to
Carry 'round a bomb in a bag
And I hate to clean up behind my dog
He's a pretty big guy and he eats like a hog
I never quite get that haircut they have in the window
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
When I go to the store
The express line gets derailed
I know that none of my batteries were included
I fall down every time I drink
I wash and all my whites turn pink
And I always come home with someone else's pants
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
The rain won't worry a drowning man
Until his feet are on dry land
He won't even care if his best shoes are full of sand
Whenever my flight touches down
My bags are in a different town
And the customs men like to get intimate with me
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
And that's all
I'm not desperate enough to
Carry 'round a bomb in a bag
And I hate to clean up behind my dog
He's a pretty big guy and he eats like a hog
I never quite get that haircut they have in the window
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
When I go to the store
The express line gets derailed
I know that none of my batteries were included
I fall down every time I drink
I wash and all my whites turn pink
And I always come home with someone else's pants
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
The rain won't worry a drowning man
Until his feet are on dry land
He won't even care if his best shoes are full of sand
Whenever my flight touches down
My bags are in a different town
And the customs men like to get intimate with me
I better give myself a talking to
I better work out what I'm going to do
Maybe get myself a wife
Better get myself a life
Instead of these post nuclear talking blues
And that's all
Big Country