His eyes are blistered from the dog
Red and swollen from the petting
Through admitting to a bed
It's all so upsetting
A shelter for the cut and burned
All those limbs gone black with bruise
A box to help him pass the wait
Toys that he can learn to use
We peddle to our young
Because pretend is fun
The greatest form of flattery
In wind up, or with batteries
In the centre through the trees
From the tele to the nation
Picking sides amongst the leaves
It's just simulation
Go on collect your rounds
At suppertime declare the winner
In automatics for the children
Even dead do dinner
We peddle to our young
Because pretend is fun
The greatest form of flattery
In wind up or with batteries
Writer(s): John Fraser Mann, Geoffrey Kelly, Vince Richard Ditrich, Linda Mae Humphries, Hugh Richard Campbell Mcmillan
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