Like a bump from behind, a tug on her purse 'Til you want what you find, it only gets worse They talk of charisma but I don't get it If I spoke German maybe I'd let it Make me sing In the back of a limousine Sing of love in quarantine Lala La La La Lala La La La No more of Jim, no more Marilyn No more lies we all share in No more Vicious, No More Dean No no no more green tambourine No more rockers, No more Mods Smash the idols, make new Gods Then kill them too Look beyond, look inside of you Look around, look below, look in-between From the back of a limousine Sing of love in quarantine Lala La La La Lala La La La Ye Olde Backlash Ye Olde Backlash Ye Olde Backlash