The Three Pyramids Club
Three neon pyramids above the door
The sign says closed it depends who for
On the tables in the their brown suede shoes
While the band plays the rhythm of a mutant blues
Undergroud oasis blue lagoon
Dancing the slowly slow beneath a 40 watt moon
Can you do the slowly slow
When your head won't start and your legs won't go
Shuffling round on their brown suede feet
While the band start blowing and turning up the heat
Feeling alright, feeling alright
Just another quiet Saturday night
Well in comes the guy with the metal head
Drinks are served and filled with dread
Up come the lady with the big pink hair
Buy him a drink and pull him up a chair
If you don't fit in you fit in here
Says the lady with the candyfloss hair
The loudmouthed guy in the Turkish fez
No one listens to a word he says
Except the man with the metal head
Who stands up slowly eyes full of hatred
The end up rolling in the sand
Into the plastic palm trees around the band
The air is filled with flying chairs
And the screams of the lady with the big pink hair
The band plays on in a higher key
To get above the noise of the revelry
Feeling alright, feeling alright
Just another quiet Saturday night
If you don't fit in you fit in here
If you don't fit in you fit in here
If you don't fit in you fit in here
The sign says closed it depends who for
On the tables in the their brown suede shoes
While the band plays the rhythm of a mutant blues
Undergroud oasis blue lagoon
Dancing the slowly slow beneath a 40 watt moon
Can you do the slowly slow
When your head won't start and your legs won't go
Shuffling round on their brown suede feet
While the band start blowing and turning up the heat
Feeling alright, feeling alright
Just another quiet Saturday night
Well in comes the guy with the metal head
Drinks are served and filled with dread
Up come the lady with the big pink hair
Buy him a drink and pull him up a chair
If you don't fit in you fit in here
Says the lady with the candyfloss hair
The loudmouthed guy in the Turkish fez
No one listens to a word he says
Except the man with the metal head
Who stands up slowly eyes full of hatred
The end up rolling in the sand
Into the plastic palm trees around the band
The air is filled with flying chairs
And the screams of the lady with the big pink hair
The band plays on in a higher key
To get above the noise of the revelry
Feeling alright, feeling alright
Just another quiet Saturday night
If you don't fit in you fit in here
If you don't fit in you fit in here
If you don't fit in you fit in here
Credits
Writer(s): Steve Lironi, Graham Mcpherson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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