round our way, the roads are paved with hatred

and no one comes to realise their dreams                              

we execute the clever clogs

deify the bigger dogs

fashion self-esteem from ragged pants

 

there is no new jerusalem

no land of opportunity

the holy lamb was sanctioned

and satanic mills are silent

we blind ourselves with arrows of desire

 

the countenance divine is dull and dour

power is confined to this estate

mental fights happen at the bus stop in the rain        

and every day we break a little more

torn apart and senseless with the grief

 

round our way, the roads are paved with hatred

and no one comes to realise their dreams                  

our scabs are picked repeatedly

by fingertips of greed

and we bleed and blame whoever's on the telly