In this car called history,
We can act up,
Wriggle about,
On the back seat,
Make a bit of noise,
Sing a song or two,
But we will not change,
Its' destination,
One,
Little,
Bit.
The ice bergs rattle And the glasses chink, And the party's swinging And I'm on the brink, All along, in the old cold throng, Bangin...
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