Rolling up tab ends that the
Baby's collected
That clicks on the wall
Waiting for the number
It's open seasons on the weat
And the feeble
Their meagre ambitions
Their impotent fury
In case there is trouble
There's a bullet proof glass
Between this side and that side
No doors in the building I've tried to wrestle
Tell myself over that I
Don't really live here
But the boys run away
Some unbalanced nightmare
Leaving blood on the pavement
And a little crowd gathered
To watch you pick yourself up
Joining the queue at the
To watch ninety five minutes
Video library
Of simulated torture
The conference hall rings
The people in blue ties
Rise from the podium
To the standing ovation
Crazy with power, blinded by vision
For a brutalized nation
The mass
.
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