Rolling up tab ends that the

Baby's collected

Waiting for the number

That clicks on the wall

It's open seasons on the weat

And the feeble

Their meagre ambitions

Their impotent fury

There's a bullet proof glass

In case there is trouble

No doors in the building

Between this side and that side



I've tried to wrestle

Some unbalanced nightmare

Tell myself over that I

Don't really live here

But the boys run away

Leaving blood on the pavement

And a little crowd gathered

To watch you pick yourself up

Joining the queue at the

Video library

To watch ninety five minutes

Of simulated torture

The conference hall rings

To the standing ovation

The people in blue ties

Rise from the podium

Crazy with power, blinded by vision

The mass-chosen leaders

For a brutalized nation



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