Struggle, struggle, fighting begins at birth

My childhood in streets full of hate and dirt

Divided by superior feelings of race, country and blood

Driven by wars, murders, crimes in the name of a self-made God



(CHORUS)

On my screen the world is burning

I wonder that the earth's still turning

But I'm not mad... I'm fucking angry



Living just for ourselves and our expensive new brought car

But if mother earth runs out of petrol you won't drive far

Another hypocrite politician on my T.V. screen

Telling me to vote for him, fuck off, I vote Mr. Bean



Cowardly like a thief in a deep, cold, dark night

With a murderous instinct from the deepest inside

Rotten to the deepest core by materialistic possessions

Leaded by insensible warpigs torturing till the confessions