He reuses the verse melody from the previous album's "Dirty Little Religion", the topics of the verses are all over the place, and he packs too many words into one line (goes to show...) and too few in another (it's pretty hard to find), and rhymes "Henley Regatta" with "Persona non grata", but gets away with it all as only he could.
Language City is a bad, old place
We all know
Where eyeballs float in space
We all know
We're tired, we can't sleep
It's crowded here, none of us leave
Language City don't mean a thing to me
Audiences, the same program is always on
When I interfere, it's best to avoid the law
When your wife wakes up and sees
Shut the blinds and block out the street
Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working
Just to tear it down
All this working
Just to tear it down
Language City is a bad, old place
We all know
Eyeballs float in space
We all know
We're tired, we can't sleep
It's crowded in the street
Language City don't mean a thing to me
I been here so long my heart is a parking lot
Hollow feet rooted to the spot
But the fields are beyond belief
From the tower out to where I can see
Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working
Just to tear it down
All this working
Just to tear it down
On the telephone
On the telephone
On the telephone
Someone's counting the hours
In a paper room
In a paper room
In a paper room
Somebody's counting the hours
Know I know it's true
From above this room
Somebody's counting the hours
The hours
The hours
The houuuuurs
Oh the long bitter road
Let us down
Oh the ringing telephone
There's no one around
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
We all know
Where eyeballs float in space
We all know
We're tired, we can't sleep
It's crowded here, none of us leave
Language City don't mean a thing to me
Audiences, the same program is always on
When I interfere, it's best to avoid the law
When your wife wakes up and sees
Shut the blinds and block out the street
Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working
Just to tear it down
All this working
Just to tear it down
Language City is a bad, old place
We all know
Eyeballs float in space
We all know
We're tired, we can't sleep
It's crowded in the street
Language City don't mean a thing to me
I been here so long my heart is a parking lot
Hollow feet rooted to the spot
But the fields are beyond belief
From the tower out to where I can see
Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working
Just to tear it down
All this working
Just to tear it down
On the telephone
On the telephone
On the telephone
Someone's counting the hours
In a paper room
In a paper room
In a paper room
Somebody's counting the hours
Know I know it's true
From above this room
Somebody's counting the hours
The hours
The hours
The houuuuurs
Oh the long bitter road
Let us down
Oh the ringing telephone
There's no one around
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
We are not at home
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
Hang on the telephone
Lyrics submitted by wrat
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