Текст: Elvis Costello. Two Little Hitlers.

While we're racing to be so old
I'm up late pacing the floor, I won't be told
You have your reservations
I'm bought and sold

I'll face the music, I'll face the facts
Even when we walk in polka-dots and checkered slacks
Bowing and squawking, running after the tidbits
Bobbing and squinting just like a nitwit

Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return, I will not burn down in the basement

I need my head examined, I need my eyes excited
I'd like to join the party but I was not invited
You make a member of me, I'll be delighted
I wouldn't cry for lost souls who might drown

Dirty words with dirty minds written in a toilet town
Got me a valentine, she's a smooth operator
It's all so calculated, she's got a calculator
She's my soft touch typewriter and I'm the great dictator

Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return, I will not burn

A simple game of self-respect
You flick the switch and the world goes off
Nobody jumps as you expect, I would have thought
You would have had enough by now

He calls selective dating for some effective mating
I thought I'd let you down, dear but you were just afraid
I knew right from the start, we'd end up hating
Pictures of the merchandise plastered on the wall

We can look so long as we don't have to talk at all
You say you'll never know him, he's not a natural man
He doesn't want your pleasure, he wants as no one can
He wants to know the names of all those he's better than

Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return, I will not burn, I will return, I will not burn
I will return, I will not burn