everybody wants do dance in a playpen,
but nobody wants to play in my garden.
I see the hippies on an angry line,
guess they don´t get my meaning,
I´m enchanted by the birds in my blossoms,

I´m enamored by young lovers on the weekend,
I like the Forth of July,
when bombs start flashing,

and I wish I had a shiny red top,
a bugle with a big brass bell would cheer me up,
or maybe something bigger that could really go pop!
so I could make the gardening stop

come out to play, come out to play,
and we´ll pretend it´s Christmas Day
in my atomic garden

all my scientists are working on a deadline,
so my psychologist is working day and nighttime,
they say they know what´s best for me,
but they don´t know what they´re doing,

and I´m glad I´m not Gorbachev,
´cause I´d wiggle all night,
like jelly in a pot,
at least he´s got a garden with a fertile plot,
and a party that will never stop,

I hope there´s nothing wrong out there,
I´m watching from my room inside my room