Sound of the Suburbs

Same old boring Sunday morning

Old men out washin' their cars

Mum's in the kitchen cookin' Sunday dinner

Her best meal, moanin' while it lasts

And Johnny's upstairs in his bedroom sittin' in the dark

Annoyin' the neighbors with his punk-rock electric guitar

This is the sound, this is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

Every lousy Monday morning

Heathrow jets go crashin' over our home

10 o'clock Broadmoor siren, drivin' me mad

Won't leave me alone

The woman next door just sits and stares outside

She hasn't come out once ever since her husband died

This is the sound, this is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

Youth club group used to wanna be free, now they want anarchy

They play too fast, they play out of tune

Practice in the singer's bedroom

Drum's quite good, the bass is too loud and I can't hear the words

This is the sound, this is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

Saturday morning family shoppers

Crowdin' out the center of town

Young blokes sittin' on the benches

Shoutin' at the young girls walkin' around

And Johnny stands there at his window lookin' at the night

I said, hey, what you listenin' to? There's nothing there, that's right

This is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound, this is the sound

This is the sound, this is the sound

This is the sound, this is the sound

This is the sound, this is the sound

This is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs

This is the sound of the suburbs