This one's authentic,

son of a gun,

a soundtrack from China

in the universal tongue....



The world is our oyster

to plunder at will

though the palats is jaded

by all but the thrill

of fish out of water,

life in the raw...

Without understanding

of what life's worth fighting for.



Out of universal language

some stuff never translates -

the reports come in clusters

but for words it's too late...

Six o'clock entertainment,

tears of anguish and rage...

in the zoos of the media

the spirit of moment is caged.



There's only one language

the whole world comprehends,

there's only one message

as the darkness descends...

do you still have a question

or do you retract?

There's a whole world of difference

between the observer and the act.



They're playing world music

in Tiananmen Square.

They're playing world music

in Tiananmen Square.

The whistle of bullets in the air