R&r

Days into weeks of Sunday afternoons<br>Nothing much for us to say nothing real for us to do<br>Just watch the carousel go round and round in endless circles<br>in the pupil of the Deadeye until you just feel numb<br>It`s virtual Jerusalem. There`s not much trouble anymore<br>it`s mostly the blissed-out stuff that people really go for<br>and the juggernaut tyranny of oblivion 4/4 <br>Double, triple bluff and then back on itself<br>a world of ironies and tribute bands, everything downsized<br>I don`t know where it was but I swear I`ve heard that song<br>it was a century of answers and all of them have been wrong.<br>Wake me in a thousand years<br><br>Sorry little island, you look better in the rain<br>You looked more honest in blue or something we can`t see through<br>and out across the world I see four billion claims <br>and all of them have faces and all of them have names<br>Enough. Wake me in a thousand years<br><br>The Prozac dawn opens milky white<br>I don`t remember what it was I got so passionate about<br>It`s all now digitally synthesised, seduced, stainless<br>the bad smell of poverty disguised, deodorised<br>There`s just the scent of money and Privilege still intact <br>A century of madness put to sleep to start over again<br>Here comes the Presidential train.<br><br>We looked into the crystal and we felt the Fear<br>but it`s already here, it`s already too late<br>We`re learning to love the things that we hate<br>We`re learning to love the things that we hate