I woke up this morning,

Dreading the thoughts of another, dull and boring day.

Hey! Woe is me.

I go out on the streets, northside of the city

I see the steel, the fading rust

And the fields I used to play in...

My friends are famous and all my foes live happy

Loved by lycra, fooled by velcro

And fucked by what they need...



But who am I to criticise? My pointing finger backfires

I hang my head down low.



I once believed in Jesus,

Now I can't believe in rock'n'roll

From baptism to alcohol, in a land suffocatingly green

Hey! The myth is magic, do you know what I mean?

The politics of sin and of sex

Suffer the fools, pawn our jewels, will it ever change?



But who am I criticise? I've made my bed, I lie on it

And hold my head up high



My disbelief, my fake redemption

My twentieth century

My holy war, my self indulgence

My twentieth century

My human flesh, my sad dependence

My twentieth century

My apathy, my big decision.

My twentieth century.