Councilors, magistrates, men of renown,
Who needs to live in a dirty old town.
Yes, go on, tear it down.
Who need the trees and the flowers to grow,
we can have a motorway with motorway dough,
I know I know I know, they've got to go.
Tear them down, mess them round,
make a mockery of all of the ground,
and if you ever have a sleepless night,
just count out your money, it'll be all right.
Politicians, planners go, look what you done,
your madness is making a machine of ev'ryone,
but one day the machine might turn on.
We'll tear you down, mess you round,
and bury you deep under the ground,
and we'll dance on your graves till the flowers return
and the trees tell us secrets that took ages to learn,
We'll tear you down, mess you round,
bury you deep under the ground,
and we'll dance on your graves till the flowers return
and the trees tell us secrets that took ages to learn,
we'll tear you down.