Pink Floyd! Pink Floyd! Pink Floyd! Pink Floyd! Pink Floyd! Pink Floyd!

You better make your face up in your favorite disguise

With your button down lips and your roller blind eyes

With your empty smile and your hungry heart

Feel the bile rising from your guilty past

With your nerves in tatters as the cockleshell shatters

And the hammers batter down your door

You'd better run

You better run all day and run all night

And keep your dirty feelings deep inside

And if you're taking your girlfriend out tonight

You better park the car well out of sight

Cause if they catch you in the back seat trying to pick her locks

They're gonna send you back to Mother in a cardboard box

You better run

(Hammer! Hammer! Hammer! Hammer!)