My generation.
(The city's all wrapped up.)
I saw the best minds of my generation,
Running on empty, superglued to the TV,
Dreaming of prosperity, talking incessantly,
Saying nothing.
Sleeping on platforms at train stations,
Sipping chemical cocktails.
Alive to the universe,
Dead to the world.
Hallucinating delusions of media reality in Camden Town,
Desperate in the persuit of cool.
He's in a suit, she's in the straight jacket.
Seven-Eleven nightmares at 3am.
(Lay low) And the moon is quiet and holy.
Watch all the bridges collide.
And I think we might have to lay low for a while.
I saw the best minds of my generation caught up in the virtual reality of
living.
Memorising PIN numbers and secret codes,
Swinging robotically to non-existant rhythms,
Flashing memberships to clubs so exclusive nobody belongs.
Scared shitless, witless, clueless, useless, tight-lipped, tight-fisted,
tight-assed, half-assed.
Ass licking, coke sniffing, money grapping, ego jabbing.
(Lay low)
Ass licking, coke sniffing, money grapping, ego jabbing.
(Why...)
Snivelling, grovelling, moaning, groaning.
Snivelling, grovelling, moaning, groaning.
(And the moon is quiet and holy.)
Snivelling, grovelling, snivelling, grovelling...
Watch all the bridges collide.
And I think we might have to lay low for a while.
(Why why why...)
The city's all wrapped up in plastic like an electronic cocoon,
If you lay in the street you can hear it humming.
Building up slowly from underground.
If you close your eyes you can observe the blue-print,
The man-made DNA that spirals breathlessly out of control.
As synapses collapse, bridges snap, into a restless utopia.
Nutopia.
And now the rain has arrived,
I think we might have to lay low for a while.
(Lay low, lay low...)
Watch all the bridges collide.
And I think we might have to lay low for a while.
(Lay low, lay low...)
Jesus said, lay down your arms.
Jesus said, children come home.
My generation.
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