The flies are coming outnBetter put repellent onnThey might drink away your bloodnThey'll be sure to define who's bossnnThe husbands won't see their wives no morenThe debris of the ship has washed ashorenThe lives of the men are dead and gonenEveryone else is moving on.nnThe birds are migrating north.nInto the obscure.nDon't shoot them out of the skynThey'll be just fine.nnLa cucaracha, la cucarachanLa cucaracha, la cucarachanCan survive a nuclear weapon.