Well she tied me to the headboard with a surf leash
And her wet hair hugged her body like a long-lost friend
And I really tried my best to get across to her
But nothing she would say could be defended
Well her birthdays uit it was her only present
When I looked into her eyes - no history
And I told her eating people wasn't pleasant
But she laughed a snake eye laugh and walked away from me
And I watched her as she walked across the coals
I watched her as she walked across the coals
I watched her as she walked
Across the coals
Singing:
I was born in Nineteen sixty weird
And I'm your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for the perfect microwave
So I did my best to try and get across her
I said: "One day every pebble hits the beach"
And I kissed her face and held her like a long-lost friend
But she was too far out there
To be reached
To be reached
She was too far?
She was singing:
I was born in Nineteen sixty weird
And I'm your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for the perfect microwave
And the sun came up over the mountain
And the waves rolled in across the bay
And the fabulous brightly coloured birds flew up out of the forest
And she said "Well we're all heaven's beautiful children together in paradise
Lie down my dear... you're going to enjoy this"
She looked like she'd had sex
With a tyrannosaurus rex.
Singing:
I was born in Nineteen sixty weird, old man
Yeah I'm your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for that perfect microwave
Perfect microwave
Writer(s): Ian Francesko Mosley, John Philip Helmer, Steven Thomas Rothery, Peter John Trewavas, Mark Colbert Kelly, S. Hogarth
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