Peter was a rebel Who stood at Hyde Park Corner Waving fists at crowds of pigeons strutting by And policemen standing by With arms folded behind their brains Staring up at brick glass buildings Whose computer zombies stared back Through their windows with deep sockets That once were seeing eyes
Peter was a rebel Who realised that the population Was really not interested And now works in a computer mock mansion Spewing tick-a-shit For 12 hang-up-drop-dead-pounds a week And watched the clock ticking Through morning noon and night To eternal sleepTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
