Mr postman found the timenBaby brother get undergroundnTo give these people their laughing gasnTouchy feely teen purple bashnAnd never want to loose their touchnNot when it means so muchnnIs this your perfect worldnThe label says sonIs this your perfect worldnThe label says sonnYou see these streets in a gold rushnThe shopping street in a vein of lovenLet them dance it next to menYou prick a whole in the fantasynWe know it is a wastenWe shade of the other basenIt doesn’t mean that much to menBack here in realitynnIs this your perfect worldnThe label says sonnIs this your perfect worldnThe label says sonIs this your perfect worldnThe label says so