Being a workaholic will kill you - you need a road-trip now! Big lush chorus harmonies and a twitching dry pensive verse.
The pressure chamber's running red,
the stones are bled.
Dull ache between the scrutineyes,
and our sense of humour's died,
so lets Getaway,
start the motor, get inside,
get away now, turn it over, and drive.
Hammer horror office lives,
us zombies never fed,
put a spanner in the gears my friend,
put the monster in it's bed,
and lets get away.
Lets drive forever never slow,
on roads that will not end,
drop the top and mind the bats,
wave goodbye to daily grind and lets just get away.