The cha cha bar was sliding
And we swam across the Scotchman on the rocks
(So many rocks. . . and glass and sand.)
In shock we docked in Fish Head Harbour
Where the lights were dimmed
(Locked in, we couldn't see a thing . . . )
The floor was tin
The sky was oil
The air was poisoned lager
And the juke box pumped out schlager
Because no one pulled the plugs
(So many plugs . . . and sparks.)
The live wives kept us dancing
Dance in brine, dance in seaweed