March Of The Swivelheads Lyrics

Rotating head, keeps on the right side Coiled up and tense remains on the lookout Expects to be shot or get given the bullet Rotating head tries to look on the bright side of things
Rotating head, friends in high places No need to guess what he's got in that briefcase A mind like a gin-trap, one swollen ankle The rotating head tries to stay on the right side of things On the right side of things
Living on tip-toe Waiting for the next step The wages of death What a life for a swivelhead
Understand, underhand, underarm protection Each new passer-by a new wave of suspicion In less than an hour the plane will be leaving The lights and the cameras Then sleep on a prayer and a wing, rotating
Living on tip-toe Waiting for the next step The wages of death What a life for a swivelhead
Rotating head look on the bright side Coiled up and tense remains on the lookout A mind like a gin-trap, one swollen ankle The rotating head tries to stay on the right side of things That's the right side of things