Midge Ure - Wastelands |
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Wastelands
Midge Ure The boy is listening to those records from the past He wants to make them last He listens to them all They are the voices of the faces on the wall For they make him feel alive Knows them all and their life stories Hangs on every little tale they tell Shares their pain and shares their glories One day he even cut their names upon his skin They mean that much to him His bedroom window opens to the evening air For them he'd take the test The fox is in his lair The volume of his system is full on This angry noise is the muzak of the wastelands But the neighbours moan and the parents call Wastelands, the wastelands, wastelands The boy is dressing in the fashion of the day The kids all dress that way The boy looks out and sees his friedns are waiting there You can tell them anywhere In the cold electric glare Of those lamps that make you think that night is day They drag their lusts into your sight With shouts and screams they meet the night They block your way in twos and fours In uniforms from city stores It won't be long before They're closing in, who knows the score A martyr's blood is nourishing the wastelands Wastelands Yes it won't be long before A martyr's blood is nourishing the wastelands Wastelands Wastelands, the wastelands, wastelands, oh wastelands Yes it won't be long before a martyr's blood is nourishing The wastelands A martyr's blood is nourishing the wastelands Wastelands, oh wastelands Words and music: M. Ure/D. Mitchell |
