|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
London calling to the faraway towns |
|
Now that war is declared and battle come down |
|
London calling to the underworld |
|
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls |
|
London calling, now don't look at us |
|
All that phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust |
|
London calling, see we ain't got no swing |
|
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing |
|
|
|
London calling to the imitation zone |
|
Forget it, brother, an' go it alone |
|
London calling upon the zombies of death |
|
Quit holding out and draw another breath |
|
London calling and I don't wanna shout |
|
But when we were talking I saw you nodding out |
|
London calling, see we ain't got no highs |
|
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes |
|
|
|
London calling, yeah, I was there, too |
|
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true! |
|
London calling at the top of the dial |
|
After all this, won't you give me a smile? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in |
|
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin |
|
A nuclear error, but I have no fear |
|
London is drowning-and I live by the river |
|