In the bright-lit railway station, 3 a.m.

In a town whose active life is at an end

I was met by a rich man dressed in a panda fur

Who said, "if i can keep smiling i can change the world."

What world?



"lord straight banana, lord paper twine,

Lord biting yo-yo, they're all friends of mine.

Lord trannie dolequeue, lord private zoo,

Lord hanging bishop and lord valium, too."



"i know you think you have a job

But the whole world knows it's ended.

Why do you laugh at the dying of the senile god

On whom your devilish life depended?"



Shop-soiled and broken

In a part not clearly seen

You'll have no armegeddon, no more screams

Pleasant dreams...



Chorus:

Your world, your world, your world customer

Your world, your world, your world, your world



I said, "i'm sure your faith in what you cannot see

Has made your slumbers sounder but it won't work for me.

I am sick of fresh starts, of the promises i've heard

From my lips and others of a brighter world."



"now i'm a punchdrunk sailor who cannot picture land,

An exhausted atom in a grain of sand.

They who can't be frozen like a teenage corpse

Must be isolated and tied up in knots."



Fake chrome and a lick of paint

And a change of name announced

By some menswear dummy turned messenger

Of a master whose name he cannot pronounce

You feast on bargain-basement dregs

Get your self-delusions off the well-worn peg

No new hierarchy, female or male

No santa, elvis or holy grail



Shop-soiled and clueless, too indebted to inspect

What both feeds and defets you--no respect

I'm beaten, but i still reject

This world, just like a sentence

Without crime or guilt or sin

So give the panda back his skin

And give the berries back their gin--chorus


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