Same old boring Sunday morning, old man's out washing the car
Mum's in the kitchen cooking Sunday dinner
Her best meal, moaning while it lasts
And Johnny's upstairs in his bedroom sitting in the dark
Annoying the neighbours with his punk rock electric guitar

This is the sound...
This is the sound of the suburbs
This is the sound...
This is the sound of the suburbs

Every lousy Monday morning Heathrow jets go crashing over our home
Ten o'clock, Broadmoor siren driving 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

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
Drums 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...
This is the sound of the suburbs

Saturday morning family shoppers crowding out the center of town
Young blokes sitting on the benches shouting at the young girls walking around
And Johnny stands there at his window looking at the night
I said, "Hey, what you listening to, there's nothing there?"
That's right!

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