The Style Council

The Style Council - Confessions Of A Pop Group songtekst

Je score:


Cheap and tacky bullshit land

told when to sit don't know where you stand

too busy recreating the past

to live in the future.

Poor relations to Uncle Sam - bears no relation to the country man

too busy being someone else to be who you really are.



Shitty plastic prefab town

mind where you walk when the sun goes down

too busy hating others to even love your own.



Bobbies on the beat again - beating blacks for blues again.

It's one way to get involved in the community.



Love me, love my jeans

I must buy shares in Heinz baked beans

too busy buying up, selling out, selling off.



3,2,1, in others terms - win a life sentence and a queen mum perm

the individuals that state, in a state of seige.



Do pop and press and mix, do tits and news stew

The next one in the poor house could be you

to busy saying "thank you" to say what for?



No time to spare - "spare me a dime"?

the Great Depression is organised crime

Their confessions are written in your blood.



Kiss your ass an' dreams goodbye

come back when you've learnt to cry

to busy try'na be strong to see how weak you are.



Wave your flags and waive your fate

the freedom you claim is the one you hate

the victory you seek will never come.



Brutal views through brutal eyes

see no future, hear no lies

speak no truth to me or the people I love.



When I grow up I want to be

all the things you've never been

and your opinion will count for none.
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Taal: Engels

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