CommieBastard
26th October 2001, 23:50
i sit in the centre of the street,
watching people go by and meet,
looking at their lives flutter by,
and letting out a deep sigh.
What i know is simply this,
in this world life twists,
hearin the same old news,
hit by the same old fists.
the slow rain keeps coming,
the busker's guitar keeps strumming,
and both gentle beats,
sing out to me of defeats.
the politicians spurt the same crap,
the media repeats, and the people follow,
it makes me feel an energy sap,
and now i feel all hollow.
And i look at the moving people,
running past this ancient steeple,
i watch the building fall and rise,
watch the city reach the skies.
And i know more than they,
that the path leads the way,
straight back to where they came,
that place thats always stayed the same.
watching people go by and meet,
looking at their lives flutter by,
and letting out a deep sigh.
What i know is simply this,
in this world life twists,
hearin the same old news,
hit by the same old fists.
the slow rain keeps coming,
the busker's guitar keeps strumming,
and both gentle beats,
sing out to me of defeats.
the politicians spurt the same crap,
the media repeats, and the people follow,
it makes me feel an energy sap,
and now i feel all hollow.
And i look at the moving people,
running past this ancient steeple,
i watch the building fall and rise,
watch the city reach the skies.
And i know more than they,
that the path leads the way,
straight back to where they came,
that place thats always stayed the same.