Colin Newman - On Returning lyrics

You'll be sorry when the sun has roasted you to Lobster red, nothing said When yellow has turned green to brown, divide by four Multiply by nine, describe your divisions, anatomical derision Lobster head and lobster feet On arriving with a third language Tucked into your briefcase, next to your toothbrush Along with a copy of the Nouvelle Observateure While your sons and daughters who registered nought Under intensive electronic scanning You regard your body with regard to events Which with nothing planned Never lacked a sense of theatre On returning with the tan you've gained A head of world service, the best of your culture An evening of fun in the metropolis of your dream