Confessions of a Pop-Group

Cheap and tacky bullshit land Told when to sit, don't know where you stand Too busy recreating the past to live in the future Poor relations to Uncle Sam Bears no relation to the country man Too busy being someone else to be who you really are Shitty plastic prefab town Mind where you walk when the sun goes down, down Too busy hating others to even love your own Bobbies on the beat again Beating blacks for blues again That's one way to get involved in the community Love me, love my jeans I must buy shares in Heinz Baked Beans Too busy buying up, selling out, oh, selling off 3 2 1 in others terms Win a life sentence and a queen mum perm The individual's the state, in a state of siege Do pop, press and mix, do tits and news stew Say, the next one in the poor house could be you Too busy saying thank you to say what for What for, what for No time to spare, spare me a dime The Great Depression is organized crime Their confessions are written in your blood Your blood Kiss your a*s and dreams goodbye Come back when you've learnt to cry To busy trying to be strong to see how weak you are Wave your flags and waive your fate The freedom you claim is the one you hate The victory you seek will never come Brutal views through brutal eyes See no future, hear no lies Speak no truth to me or the people I love And when I grow up, I want to be All the things you've never been And your opinion will count for none Heading for a breakdown Heading for a breakdown Heading for a breakdown [Incomprehensible] Heading for a breakdown Breakdown