Everybody's pinching their guts  Young lumps of lead, floating on the harbour  They pick themselves up, now they're falling down again  Big lumps of lead floating to fruition  La la la  Like tickets worn, sometimes stolen  Like foreign languages, squashed into the ferry floor  One ticklish kiss will kill the itch around our ankles  And today moves in wave motion  Tomorrow's failing in the bath  And big lumps of lead, floating out to Pinchgut  And your eyes, watching this, they begin to cry  Your eyes, one ticklish kiss, they begin to cry  Your eyes, lumps of lead, they begin to cry  La la la