One, two, three four.
I listen to you everynight
with a big pair of my dad's headphones
fastened tight.
My windows kept
out the cloudy light.
And downstairs sat a couple having a fight.
Well history is bound to repeat.
A thousand kids trying to sleep.
And when they grow up,
they'll march in the street.
They'll march in the street.
They'll march in the street.