Flower people were so beautiful
I saw the exits closing now
They leave lined with defeat
The sentences of cynics
Ruled out by grim assassins
Well there's nothing like the truth
'Cos it makes no sense to me
I saw the exits closing now
I've known many restless summers

Why don't they understand? We're so ordinary too
Burning mountains, burning paper
Well, the place I see so much better

A place without a postcard
And they got those tears in their eyes
The talk of politicians
I've seen men that have been marked out

Good luck the beatnik spirit
But straight and loud's the way
Burning all around and later
Brave faces face the boardroom

The oak stained walls fall silent
Well, it makes no sense to me
Are the sentences of childhood
And the lies we eat for breakfast
They walk and talk of nothing
And I'm never going there
Pain and passion's my point of view

Out-talked by the mass media to pay the bills it lies

They fell hard on instant replay
They're all talking shit to me
The sand dunes I imagine