Author: Mark Twain

Destroy the spineless
Sundays it’s real
Wasting their last chance
To come away
Just read the Comix
’cause I’m drifting away
Away from you

Somewhere there’s music, it’s where you are,
Somewhere there’s heaven, how near, how far
The Sunday Comics would shine if you would come to me soon,
Until you will, how still my heart,
How high the moon.

Oh Sunday Comix!
How are Sunday Comix?
I hope the world is treating you right
And your head’s in the air

Comix, comix, bo-bomb mix
Banana fanna fo fond mix
Fee fi fo onyx
Comix!

You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the comics of Sunday morning
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song

Hielt man für Ufos aus dem All
Darum schickte ein General
‘ne Sundaycomics hinterher
Alarm zu geben, wenn’s so wär

Long ago, in the Russian hills,
A Victorian explorer found
The Sunday Comics by a marsh
He captured them and brought them home.
Sequential creature stirs, seeking revenge…

Catch, catch I’m a spider
カゲをひそめて
A god — a god in the clouds
I’ll find you Sunday Comics
Look at me now

Yer bitsy little thoughts don’t even faze
My basic policy to bomb smarter
My Sunday Comics crush Carter
With Bay of Pigs tactics makin’ young men into martyrs

Long time since there’s been trouble
That’s what the Sunday Comix say
I told the new man when I
Sold the farm today