I convinced myself that I don't walk the line

The skyscrapers of untruth, customised feeds, net neutrality, smart meters, smart water, smart fucking motorways.

The world on your shoulders, the love of your mother.

Circle the wagons, we're under attack. We've realized there's no going back.

Only the fiction still has the appeal

Kills her daily, dream of the Daily Mail. It is the Holy Grail.

And yeah we love the kids. We're still human like everyone else

Full of mistrust hatred and some lies

Underneath silk riches sixty six million giving slaves.

Heads are spinning, it feels so good. It's poetry, sheer poetry.

Baby, I lost my way. following our star.

Predictive and passionless it's now self engulfed.

Where there never was a Jim Crow sign nowhere and no lilly-white committees, politicians of note.

You said you were tired and taking time off; you still live in the deepness of our souls.

Done to your hair, done to your hair, done to your hair, done to your hair

I'm breaking and I'm shaking so delete the, the feeling beneath the real thing.

Misery and trauma making love. Best go shoot the fucking doves.

Trotsky - honeymoon - serenade the naked; Che Guevara - you're all target now.

My life just an old man's memory. Little baby nothing.

Leviathan, I am your son

A single bird sings a sweet old song, a fitting sound for a world so wrong.

Images remade themselves.

And all the drugs in the world can't save us from ourselves

So read my token lips as if they never exist.

So I walked to the sea, threw a pebble in for you and me.

Just for one, for no one else we are blameless

Money needs money, and slums need the poor.

Wish the last of the year

Machetes his bed kaffir lover forever

Hanging on to nothing

Just as long as your motives are pure.

Does it matter if you really ever know?

Despair seeps through and cuts our eyes. Unified collapse of everything inside.

And capitalism neither rules or defines.

People get tired, people get old

Just forget about the rest

And if I'm starving, you can feed me lollipops. Your diet will crush me.

Progress is a comfortable disease that brought us down to our knees, not to pray but to cry and wish while painting portraits of our loneliness.

I retreat into self-pity, it's so easy, where they patronise my misery

The second great depression (The second great depression) lasted longer than I figured (Lasted longer than I figured)

Listen to Luke, sermon six: And if one of the occupation troops forces you to carry his pack one kilometre, carry it two.

Just like before but it's never enough

It makes me angry ashamed but really alive

I'm losing all my innocence.

He loves me truly this mute solitude I'm draining.

The beauty still shines in your eyes

Scratch my leg with a rusty nail, sadly it heals.

I need you as much as you need me

Mine the sanity of exclusive gun laws; art critics say pornos easily obscene.

I tell them I wish I was.