we call this the wasteland,
Where fewer little posh boys can't believe
Where'd you get those fans,
Found them at the shop man,
Peculiar place to find them
but they're dedicated View fans.
You think it's cynical to
It's not a miracle; we're just
Imprisonment is on the cards,
We're heading for the quick sand.
coz there's nothing to do,
Nothing to do, but listen to you,
Not listening to you my parents told me not to,
our idealistic wasteland,
So steal a car chief, the police
They'll find it funny when they
coz there's nothing to do,
I'm not listening to you my parents told me not to,
Think you're a hard prick,
something quite sadistic,
No you weren't sadistic when he'd
done you with the brick vick,
Your land is boring, so very,
Wouldn't dream to wonder if it's raining or it'ssnow