[Intro: Fast, choppy, muted guitar riff. A driving, disco-punk drum beat kicks in.] [Vocals: Cheeky, rapid-fire, slightly bored British accent, like Ricky Wilson of the Kaiser Chiefs] [Verse 1] Friday evening down at St. Jude's Hall Got the microphone stand, watching the shadows fall They’re shuffling in with their walkers and their canes Taking their usual seats, ignoring the aches and pains. I spin the plastic cage, the wooden balls collide Locked the heavy double doors firmly from the outside. Mrs. Higgins winks, she hasn't aged a single day Since nineteen-ninety-three, but I just look away. [Chorus] [Guitars explode into a bouncy, anthemic strum. Bass is heavily featured.] Eyes down, listen to the call! The numbers tumbling out, echoing off the wall! A pound a ticket, a tenner for the prize But there’s a ravenous glint in their milky eyes! Yeah, it’s bingo night, the tension’s running high And the jackpot is a secret money cannot buy! [Verse 2] [Drums drop to a tight high-hat groove. Guitars play staccato stabs.] Number eight, garden gate, a murmur in the crowd They’re marking off their cards, breathing very loud. Legs eleven, I sweat under the fluorescent light Something isn't strictly normal in the room tonight. Mr. Henderson is drooling on his polyester shirt They don't want the biscuit tin, they’re craving for dessert. The contract specifies I read them every single one Until the final ritual sequence is entirely done. [Chorus] [Full band, maximum bouncy energy] Eyes down, listen to the call! The numbers tumbling out, echoing off the wall! A pound a ticket, a tenner for the prize But there’s a ravenous glint in their milky eyes! Yeah, it’s bingo night, the tension’s running high And the jackpot is a secret money cannot buy! [Bridge] [Music shifts, dropping the bouncy indie feel for a heavy, thrash-metal chug. Double kick drum.] [Vocals: Losing the cheeky accent, turning into a desperate scream] I spin the cage again, there’s only one ball left! I’m gasping for my breath, feeling a sudden theft! The oxygen is leaving, the temperature drops low They’re standing up in unison, they’re putting on a show! Their wrinkles melt away, their teeth are growing sharp They’re tearing through the tables like a predator and carp! [Chorus] [Thrash metal rhythm continues, chaotic and aggressive] I pull the final number! I hesitate to speak! The bingo caller's trembling, his knees are getting weak! The final incantation to keep them from the dust! A sacrifice is needed to satisfy their lust! [Outro] [Frantic, discordant guitar solo squealing over blast beats] [Vocals: Terrified, echoing] Twenty-two! Two little ducks! They're locking the exits! I'm the prize! They're swarming the stage! Bingo! Bingo! [Abrupt stop with the sound of a microphone dropping and a horrific crunch]
