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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