You could tell us that the house is burning down
But you can see from our faces that we're sticking around
Until the paint on the walls starts bubbling
And the smoke has us coughing and stumbling
You know we'll never stop, drop and roll
Because we didn't come up with it ourselves
Our principles go down in flames
But at least we'll be the proudest people in hell
The proudest people in hell
We'll argue with a stop sign, we'll argue with a head cold
While we wonder, "Is the world really round?"
We kick and scream and grow old
We kick and scream and grow old
We're the proudest people in hell
We're the proudest people in hell
We'll argue with a stop sign, we'll argue with a head cold
While we wonder, "Is the world really round?"
We kick and scream and grow old
We kick and scream and grow old
Grow old
They'll have to drag us out kicking and screaming
Grow old
They'll have to drag us out kicking and screaming
We grow old
We grow old
They'll have to drag us out kicking and screaming
We grow old
They'll have to drag us out kicking and screaming
We grow old
(In these days of trouble and strife
Is there really a remote little village where all seems to be right with the world
Children, animals, and adults all move leisurely
And no one seems to be very much concerned
About what's going on in the great but hectic world outside
Although they may not have all the comforts of modern living
They appear to have peace of mind
And that's something our modern machinery has not yet produced)