Alan Moore - March of the Sinister Ducks | Текст песни

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• Alan Moore
• March of the Sinister Ducks

Everyone thinks they’re such sweet little things.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Soft downy feathers and nice little wings.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
But there’s a poison I’d like to administer;
You think they’re cuddly, but I think they’re sinister!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

What are they doing at night in the park?
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Think of them waddling about in the dark!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Sneering and whispering and stealing your cars,
Reading pornography, smoking cigars!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

Nasty and small: undeserving of life.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
They’ll sneer at your hairstyle and sleep with your wife.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Dressed in plaid jackets and horrible shoes,
Getting divorces and turning to booze!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

Forcing old ladies to throw them some bread.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Who could deny, they’d be better off dead?
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Look closely and you will recoil in surprise
At web-footed fascists with mad little eyes!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

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