Unplug the cord from the socket in the wall The linoleum is rising, we are standing tall Switch to 'High Suction', kick the leaver down, We’re leave-ing the gravity of this sleepy town. Hover-ing upward on a Hoover breeze, Gliding past the curtains with a rhythmic ease. Oh, we’re riding the appliances into the sky... The washing machine is spinning a galaxy high! Surf the ironing board on a silver wave, from the kitchen sink to the stars we crave. The neighbourhood is lifting, a domestic parade In a technicolour dream... that’ll never fade. The sofa is a vessel, a three-piece suite, tumbling through the clouds, above the quiet street. A toaster fires sparks, like a shooting star. We haven’t left the lounge, but we’ve gone so far. Your hand... is in my hand, we are spinning 'round. Feet upon the carpet, but we’re never on the ground. Oh, we’re riding the appliances into the sky, the washing machine is spinning a galaxy high. Surf the ironing board on a silver wave, From the kitchen sink to the stars we crave. The neighbourhood is lifting, a domestic parade In a technicolour dream... that’ll never fade. Riding the spin cycle... To the sunset...
