F E A R is everywhere here |
| Under the patio |
| Under the hard-earned bought and paid-for home |
| Cushions, scented candles and the lawn |
| Mowing to the beat and the rumble of the coming storm |
We all know about the wars that are raging |
| All the millions who just cannot see |
| There's so much more that binds us than divides us |
| But our f e a r denies it |
| While the papers stir it |
| The colours of the flag we wave |
| Were and will become blood red again |
And the madmen all say they hear voices |
| God tells them what to do |
| The wars are all about money |
| They always were |
| And the money's dressed up in religion |
| And when it's not showing off, the money's hiding. |
Something is cooking inside me... |
| It ain't ready, but already… |
| I'm becoming harder to live with |
| Becoming harder to live with |
| You say I'm becoming harder to live with |
| I'm becoming harder to live with |
| But you can't see into my head |
| You can't see into my head |
| You can't see into my head |
No, you can't see into my head. |
And the roads are full of weapons |
| That slide by in the night |
| Tanks all covered in yellow mud |
| Pass you on the motorway |
| As you drive by with the kids and the buckets and spades |
| Happy Days. |