Dirt and sweat, smoke and beer, a constant ringing in the ear The haunted sound of the silent cheer Constant smell of carbon monoxide, miles and miles on sheets of black ice Trying hard not to pick up crab lice Days and days on the four-oh-one in the womb of an iron lung How much longer will this machine run? Counting seconds, running late, stress twists you out of shape Just a pawn in the hands of fate Dirty toilets for your use, mould growing in your shoes fu*k it all just pass the booze Summer Sunday punk rock forum, everything just seems to bore ‘em It’s no holiday in the sun You gotta play there’s no place to run It’s no holiday in the sun You gotta play there’s no placе to run Sitting duck for a loaded gun