THE SUBURBAN GUERRILLA. The Suburban Guerrilla he's here And near, Both with pickets and placards, He won't go away, With his Silver Sword, And a Crescent Moon, He's busy brooding and breeding, All hatred 'n' fear, He is the mood of the Planet, Is this Suburban Guerrilla Our neighbour next door? In the twilight hour preceding the dawn, The chorus of voices that are, The Suburban Guerrilla, For He won't go away, Bowing ever eastward, For the Suburban Guerrilla he's here And near, Having no Monarch, He won't go away, Three time I say, With Silver Sword, He likes to hit back, Under a Crescent Moon. While Sentries they stand, All huddled and wrapped, Feelin' battered and bruised, Wage'n a - War, That can never be won, In the Streets, Satirical, He is the Mood of the Planet, Is Our Suburban Guerrilla, This, Our neighbour hood Bully, Our neighbour next door? By Andrew Fry.