(Keighley, C. Keighley. 1:51)

Apartment walls, halls are small

Government building site much too small

These tiny boxes won't let me out

These tiny boxes are too remote

It's a screaming mess

Television city dream

Your robot's eyes gleam

In my future dream

Yeah hey!

It's not fate or chance

It's the money in the bank

Burn their timber and gather their bricks

Drive'em into the fire, the bloody dicks

It's a screaming mess

And I am the prisoner

The prisoner, the prisoner

Go!

It's not fate or chance

Kick somebody in the face

Burn their timber and gather their bricks

Drive'em into the fire, the bloody dicks

It's a screaming mess

Television city dream

Your robot's eyes gleam

In my future dream

And I am the prisoner

The prisoner, the prisoner

Well I am the prisoner

The prisoner, the prisoner

The prisoner!