What was that bang? It was the next big thing

Exploding over our heads

And soon the next generation

Will emerge from behind the bike sheds

What are we going to offer them?

The exact same thing as before

But a different way to wear it

And the promise of a whole lot more



Oh, pity the pressures at the top,

The tantrums and the tears

And the sound of platinum cash tills

Ringing in their ears

Money maketh man a Tory

Don't fire that assumption at me

I like toast as much as anyone

But not for breakfast, dinner, and tea



So don't saddle me with your ideals

And spare me all your guilt

For a poet with all the answers

Has never yet been built



I see no shame in putting my name

To socialism's cause

Nor seeking some more relevance

Than spotlight and applause

Neither in the name of conscience

Nor the name of charity

Money is put where mouths are

In the name of solidarity



We sing of freedom

And we speak of liberation

But such chances come

But once a generation

So I'll ignore what I am sure

Were the best of your intentions

You are judged by your actions

And not by your pretensions



There is drudgery in social change

And glory for the few

And if you don't tell me what not to say

I won't tell you what not to do