| Lyrics |
(N. Finn/T. Finn)there's junk mail in my letterboxand all the catalogues
I can't wait to buy itno matter what it coststhe whistle of the sniperthe crashing of the bombsput a spring back in my stepkeeps me feeling youngand this shopping is a curseeverytime it's getting worse
I got bullets in my hairdothe hairs on my shirtmany ways to spend your moneythere's not a lot to choosethe tanks are rolling overmy hundred dollar shoesyou can never find a taxito drive you into town
I'm always in a hurry
I won't go undergroundand this shopping is a curseevery time it's getting worse
I got bullets in my Hairdoand holes in my purseall quiet on the streetsilence breathing downbullets in my hairdojewels in my crownand this shopping is a curseevery time it's getting worse
I got bullets in my hairdoand holes in my skirt
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