I say you're messing me around

You say I'm getting out of hand



I'm sick of the coutry

Sick of the town

Sick of the future

It's getting me down



I say the future's going to last

You say there's nothing in the past



I'm sick of the government

Sick of the Police

Sick of the boredom

I want release



I can recall a strange event

I gave you nothing with my complements

A discontent that efferents

An enptyness or nothingness that's heaven sent



I'm sick of the coutry

Sick of the town

Sick of the future

It's getting me down



I say, and you say

I say, and you say

I say it's getting me down