Doesn't seem right! 
They're dropping bombs again,
And they're doing it in your name,
All the rational commentaries in the papers that I read
Marmalade and buttered toast
And the smell of Sunday roast
Kiss the arse of Uncle Sam,
Oh to be an Englishman.
When you hear the sound of warning
When the only colour is red
Red sky in the morning
Everywhere I'm seeing red
Dawn brings a day of hell hours that we pawn and sell
A single magpie in the tree
One for sorrow one for me
Kick it off the cliff I said
Now the line fucks up my head
Too late to change this mode
Break all my moral code
Running from myself again
And all I feel is shame
It does't matter where I go
Everywhere just looks the same
This sense of emptiness
As we create this mess
Self-destructive tendencies
Are what you mean to me
