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Well the sun was rising, according to plan
We were all theorising on distributing land
Kissing and crying, and all holding hands
One long line folding out, straight like sun tan
I was handed a phone in a street, dial four
And you’ll get your contribution to your door
You’ll get what you need or you get what you get
So don’t come complaining when you get upset
Are you free? Are you free?
Are you free my socialist queen?
Dine with me, dine with me
Dine with me on Marxism Street
The fat cats complaining that they wanted more
A little piece extra to make like before
You called me up, crying, that things don’t get done
Your heart was in pieces, your heart wasn’t won
Pick me up, softly, take me outside
And we’ll fly out on a hot air balloon ride
I didn’t think that you’d understand
Just head back to the city with your head in your hands
And now you’re all cut, crying, pieces on floor
You’re wondering how to get back to before
Your love’s disappeared and he’s not coming back
His snide little comments are a form of attack