your twisted cynicism - makes me feel sick -
your open disgust for ´idealistic naive´
you´ve given up hope - you´re jaded and ill
the trouble is your thoughts a catching disease.
oh - you need to get away
oh - you need a change of pace
because you´re all dried up and you don´t believe
you reckon i´m dreaming when i say i still feel real,
you say you work for yourself and it´s the only way
but i look at you talking and to me you just scrape away -
what makes once young minds get in this state,
is it age or just the social climate?
you´re talking like some fucking hardened mp
you´re saying power´s all
and it´s power you need!
oh - you need to get away
oh - you need a change of pace
because you´ve given up on hope -
you´re emotionless -
you´ve no need for love it´s just hate, hate, hate.
but i look at you shaking and it is you -
who is scraping away.
you who is scraping away..
smither-jones - bruce foxton
here we go again, it´s monday at last,
he´s heading for the waterloo line.
to catch the 8am fast, its usually dead on time,
hope it isn´t late, got to be there by nine.
pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
stops off at the corner shop, to buy the times
´good morning smithers-jones´
´how´s the wife and home?´
´did you get the car you´ve been looking for?´ (repeat)
let me get inside, let me take control of you,
we could have some good times,
all this worry will get you down,
i´ll give you a new meaning to life - i don´t think so.
sitting on the train, you´re nearly there
you´re a part of the production line,
you´re the same as him, you´re like tin-sardines,
get out of the pack, before they peel you back.
arrive at the office, spot on time,
the clock on the wall hasn´t yet struck nine.
´good morning smithers-jones´,
´the boss wants to see you alone´.
´i hope its the promotion you´ve been looking for´ (repeat)
´come in smithers old boy´
´take a seat, take the weight off your feet´.
´i´ve some news to tell you´
´there´s no longer a position for you´ -
´sorry smithers-jones´.
put on the kettle to make some tea
it´s all a part of feeling groovy
put on your slippers turn on the tv
it´s all a part of feeling groovy
it´s time to relax now you´ve worked your arse off
but the only one smilin´ is the sun tanned boss
work and work and work and work til you die
cause there´s plenty more fish in the sea to fry.
little boy soldiers - paul weller
its funny how you never knew what my name was,
our only contact was a form for the election.
these days i find that you don´t listen,
these days i find that we´re out of touch,
these days i find that i´m too busy,
so why the attention now you want my assistance -
what have you done for me?
you´ve gone and got yourself in trouble,
now you want me to help you out.
these days i find that i can´t be bothered,
these days i find that its all too much,
to pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
but i´ve got no choice so here i come - war games.
i´m up on the hills playing little boy soldiers,
reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
you´re one of us and we love you for that.
think of honour, queen and country.
you´re a blessed son of the british empire,
god´s on our side and so is washington.
come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.
come on outside - i´ll sing you a lullabye,
and tell the tale of how goodness prevailed.
we ruled the world - we killed and robbed,
the fucking lot - but we don´t feel bad.
it was done beneathe the flag of democracy,
you´ll believe - and i do, yes i do - yes i do -
yes i do -
these days i find that i can´t be bothered,
to argue with them - well, what´s the point?
better to take your shots and drop down dead,
then they send you home in a pine overcoat.
with a letter to your mum
saying ´find enclosed one son, one medal´ - and a note to say he
won.