(N. Finn/T. Finn) there's junk mail in my letterbox and all the catalogues I can't wait to buy it no matter what it costs the whistle of the sniper the crashing of the bombs put a spring back in my step keeps me feeling young and this shopping is a curse everytime it's getting worse I got bullets in my hairdo the hairs on my shirt many ways to spend your money there's not a lot to choose the tanks are rolling over my hundred dollar shoes you can never find a taxi to drive you into town I'm always in a hurry I won't go underground and this shopping is a curse every time it's getting worse I got bullets in my Hairdo and holes in my purse all quiet on the street silence breathing down bullets in my hairdo jewels in my crown and this shopping is a curse every time it's getting worse I got bullets in my hairdo and holes in my skirt
