It's Like Brumagen's Been Hit By A One Kiloton Bomb

Polluted unemployed, washed up on a W.M.P.T.E. desert

sharing their seat with bus pass pensioners

and how they'd condoned the butchering of half a planet

so it would never happen again

So I read the last library book

and felt the security machine, take a look

oh I've got a low profile

carry on son

I'm just doing my job, and how's your mum?

walking on concrete washing in tears

the machine has materialized our worst fears

Isn't this meat lean

I will go back to that shop again

as second generation hippies

plunge into the flood drain

as green spiky tops

are having babies

those on the road scabies

The only thing left will be electricity pylons

and "Psstt love, do you wanna buy some forties nylons"?