Summer in a Small Town

I'm not going mad, I'm not going mad
 I'm not going mad, I'm not going mad
 This is the typical day
 I'm not living here, honest
 I'm a traveling salesman
 I'm gonna leave tomorrow, really
 It's an unimpeachable summer dream
 To fall in love with the ice machine
 In the corner of the pub across the street
 And working spends if working does
 But nowadays it's them or us
 Which means that someone has to face the heat
 Hey, hey, hey
 Who writes the soundtrack?
 Lend us a pound coin
 Who writes the play?
 It's a loudmouth summer sun
 Which tells you good is on the run
 And the golden age is not the present one
 In the summer
 In the small town where you stay
 You're a bluebird
 In a broken-down café
 For a day
 Those crazy kids, what will they do?
 They're not a bit like me and you
 With that crypto-punky-psychobilly beat
 Hit
 They took your sacred rock and roll
 They stripped it down and they left a hole
 Then they filled it up with anger from the street
 Hey, hey, hey, hey
 Mutant beat freaks, hah!
 Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
 So far away
 A day in the country
 Is not on the menu
 For anyone you've met today
 In the summer
 In the small town where you stay
 You're a bluebird
 In a broken-down café
 For a day
 In the summer
 In the small town where you stay
 You're a bluebird
 In a broken-down café
 In the summer
 In the small town where you stay
 You're a bluebird
 In a broken-down café
 For a day