A month of Sundays, law enforced The church's new torture is now enforced A month of church every day Is what they want without delay Backed by troops
Back to school in Woolworth's clothes Now your mummy's dream Right inside her price range But not everything you seem Now you are with Satan In the gates
On tele, police are murdered, demonstrators are just killed Why two different words for the blood that's spilled? In this struggle, you decide who's
Grinding off the neighbor's cat Baggy shorts and stupid hat halfpipe hero I am not Where's the brakes, I cannot stop Scootering, scootering, scootering
For those with money, life is just a game For us supposed working class, it's far from the same But are they fascists just because they're rich What
Hope you got a fuckin' headache Hope you got it good Hope you got a fuckin' headache 'Cos I always knew you should
There's no room in a political dream There's no room in a law For when men refuse to fight And will not go to war Its true deterrent weapons Make men
Every cloud has a nuclear lining The dark sky in the East Those without a shelter, whining At the face of the beast Red sky at night Is now no ones
