You can bring a bowl of rice and then a glass of water too
And the ice creams are all melting on the streets of bloody beer
And fate is setting up the chessboard while death rolls out the dice
Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?
Yellow Buddhist monk is burning brightly at the zoo
While the beggars stain the pavements with fluorescent Christmas cheer
Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?
With jingle bells and fairy tales and blind colliding scopes
And you can tell they're all the same underneath the pretty lies
And the Bentley-driving guru is putting up his price
And the elephants are dancing on the graves of squealing mice
Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?
And the prophets in the boutiques give out messages of hope
