Letras
To the city beat on a treacherous curve,
up upon the high wire you're observed –
you live as you live, you'll get what you deserve:
High life, dig those highlights,
Sun City nightlife:
you'll be like a moth consumed by a flame.
It's a rich man's world, kick those beggars and fools;
conspicuous consumption the only rule,
but the law of retribution will be terribly cruel.
Oh, but you mustn't stop to think about your place upon the planet;
if you did, you might steal yourself away
and it doesn't really matter if the show goes up tomorrow.
After all, this petty place is day to day.
Highlights of the highlife,
dancing at midnight,
dancing all moral existence away.
Nightlife, highlights, highlife, twilight...
Oh, you mustn't ever think about your place upon the planet,
don't look further than the bottom of a drink,
don't ever think about the way you'll feel tomorrow,
don't stop dancing or the boat will sink...
all in all it's gone before you blink.
Highlights of the high life,
Sun City nightlife,
you'll be like a moth consumed by flame...
Twilight of the high life,
chimes at midnight...
you're still dancing all moral existence away.
(A motor-bike in Afrika,
he's riding the white line
oblivious of snakes stretched out across the way like trip-wire...
He's dancing.
Biko, Biko Biko, Biko...)