To the North of Kathmandu
There’s tiny children sniffing glue
Like losers in a Michael Winner script
It’s got a BMX certificate
And somewhere in the opening shots
By the wino in the cardboard box
A madman cornered by police
Puts a Smith and Wesson between his teeth
And meanwhile in the butcher’s shop
Another turkey gets the chop
Outside there’s a blazing sun
It’s a perfect day to drop the bomb