Who was that on the window ledge? Did he jump or was he pushed? He left a note which no one read In desperate hand the note just said: "Never turn
Some dirty squatters moved into my street With their non sexist haircuts, dirty feet Their dogs, cats, political elite They may have beds but they
Sing a song of violence and listen for the sound All the little soldiers start to come around Start it with a rumour, a whisper in an ear Suspision
I can look in the mirror and not recognize The reflection that is appearing on the other side I know that hat and that coat that shirt and that tie
Rain is floading, the pavement cracks Headlines screaming 'Pay more tax' A girl is crying as she misses her train Weather man is saying "Just a
One, two, three, go I've got an ego It won't let me go And what am I gonna do? A B C D Paranoia's killing me I'm dying on my aching feet What a way to
I am the Great White Hunter And you know I've come to search Just to further human knowledge All for science and research And if by chance I bring
I look out the window and I wonder at it all, Staring at the symbols that decorate the wall, And everybody's calling to come and join them all, But
Who is gonna be one of the crowd Who is gonna be there shouting out loud Who is gonna be hanging around Cheering at a plan, someone's walking all
Well the news is on, I listen all day It's stranger than fiction that they make up these days The music is crap, that the radio plays I know it
War - War - War - War There's war in Afghanistan And war in Northern Ireland And war in South America And war in Africa And war - Violence War
I was living rather quietly by my village in the trees Don't bother anybody and they don't bother me I'm always kind to passers-by, I never make
I ear the buzzin' on the radio I ear yet another song about True love I wonder what it's all about I'd like to taste a little bit of that Don't know
It's nineteen thirty-three ??? ??? But she just wanna go Dancing, dancing Dancing, dancing Dancing, dancing Dancing, dancing She walk the street
There's a new band every week New ways to move your feet New sounds to thrill your ears Same old chords dresses up weird New attitudes, brand new
Black were the people in the country of Biafra On the continent of Africa, where the sun beat down like fire The people and their babies had teeth
This land is your land and this land is my land From the dirty water of the river Thames To the rusting cranes of the tee another tyne The land
Crawling in ever crack, mechanical creatures, don't open your eyes The part of existence is now distorted, to a level where sense is out of reach The
