Confessions of a Pop-Group - Paul Weller

    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
    too busy hating others to even love your own.

    Bobbies on the beat again - beating blacks for blues again.
    It'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, selling off.

    3,2,1, in others terms - win a life sentence and a queen mum perm
    the individuals that state, in a state of seige.

    Do pop and press and mix, do tits and news stew
    The next one in the poor house could be you
    to busy saying "thank you" to say what for?

    No time to spare - "spare me a dime"?
    the Great Depression is organised crime
    Their confessions are written in your blood.

    Kiss your ass an' dreams goodbye
    come back when you've learnt to cry
    to busy try'na 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.

    When I grow up I want to be
    all the things you've never been
    and your opinion will count for none.

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words