Wasting away the better part of the day
In the bus on the clocks of the UK
We walked down the street on that All Hallows Eve
We couldn't wait to get back to the US of A

The torture of eight days straight
Without sight of your face is so frightening
Oh b_____ hell!
Hoping to make it straight
Or find signs of a bite that won't taste like poison

In London we played half an hour a day
For a house full of neds who are wanting us dead
In Glasgow and Leeds we find signs of relief
An escape from our grief with a fistful of E's

Eight day hell
You're in an eight day hell

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