I've seen faces in the window I've seen faces in the street They walk and talk of nothing I've known many restless summers The sand dunes I imagine A place without a postcard Flower people were so beautiful But straight and loud's the way Good luck the beatnik spirit The talk of politicians The sentences of cynics Are the sentences of childhood
They're all talking shit to me
Out-talked by the mass media to pay the bills it lies And the lies we eat for breakfast Brave faces face the boardroom the oak stained walls fall silent They leave lined with defeat
And they got those tears in their eyes Well it makes no sense to me
Why don't they understand We're so ordinary too I saw the exits closing now Pain and passion's my point of view Well there's nothing like the truth
I've seen men that have been marked out Ruled out by grim assassins They fell hard on instant replay And I'm never going there Well the place I see so much better Cos it makes no sense to me I saw the exits closing now Burning mountains, burning paper Burning all around and later
(Moginie/Garrett)
Compositores: Peter Roberts Garrett (Peter Garrett), James Paul Moginie (James Moginie), Martin Magnus Rotsey (Martin Rotsey), Peter Thomas John Gifford (Peter Gifford), Robert George Hirst (Ghostwriter) ECAD: Obra #4030334