Gavin Friday My Twentieth Century
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 f..cked 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.
