The panorama of the city is wrong 
In fact the city seems to be gone 
 [bad word] burning smoke in my eyes 
There's a flat burning junkheap for twenty square miles

They took it into the nuclear mine
 Judging by this, they left nothing behind 
Down in the bunkers in the [bad word] of the earth
 Now crouch the wealthy and the noble of 

If I could a ride a train around the city 
That holds this as our fate 
I'd hide from electro-circuit central
 To the shock inducer gate

Not forgetting the by-
Across the Washington hooks 
Through the phones and desks and screens
 Of the Kremlin's crook of crooks

There's some panel in a circuit board 
destination of the override
 Scanning the wild wind 
Blowing through the Berlin corridor

Spotlit in a palace, shielded from dust 
Malfunction or not, the failsafe is the 
So far away from us, shaking with the mystery tears 
One lonely night in Ladbroke Grove

Far away in the deserts of Omaha
 They got it nailed down-swiss tight 
The bank notes of Europe, the emperors and kings
 Curl in the autumn as the burning of leaves 
And I've cleaned my black guitar