Now that you set everybody free. What are you going to do about me?. Don't want to be treated like some poor grateful clown. I'd rather go back to the sweet underground. Where I can tell by the colour of my skin. And I know my neighbour 'cos he's the one yes he's the one. Who always turns me in. A woman works the tunnel in the middle of the night. Picking up every lost object in sight. Handbags toupees lost legs and fingernails. The black market eats up all your failures. Her transistor offers no salvation or regrets. No pool no pets no cigarettes. Just non-stop Disco Tex and the Sex-o-lettes. CHORUS. There's no name no name for the place or pain we'll cause you. again and again. If you do not co-operate with the Invasion Hit Parade. The liberation forces make movies of their own. Playing their Doors records and pretending to be stoned. Drowning out a broadcast that wasn't authorised. Incidentally the revolution will be televised. With one head for business and another for good looks. Until they started arriving with their rubber aprons and their. butcher's hooks. CHORUS. They're hunting us down here with Liberty's light. A handshaking double talking procession of the mighty. Pursued by a T.V. crew and coming after them. A limousine of singing stars and their brotherhood anthem. The former dictator was impeccably behaved. They're mopping up all the stubborn ones who just refuse to be saved