The lemmings push their pens [bad word] 
In hoards of crashing stupor
Towards the farms of Babylon
To scramble mother nature
Where unrelenting [bad word] 
Is all there is to nurture
And life and death are by consent
And love is for oppression
 [bad word] to my nightmare
It's the one in which I always press the button

million tons of printed [bad word] [bad word] through my door each day
Up to my [bad word]  around my neck
I can't even throw it away
Bills for my shirt, receipts for my soul
With only a moment to pay
Before the thud of the future
Gives me the shakes
 [bad word] to my nightmare
It's the one in which I always burn the cakes

In 1649

Just as I light the loaded fire
space invader lands
It's full of cops and bureaucrats
With bouquets of final demands
And I see my life flash before me again
Slipping through my hands
As the sound of harvest closes in
Swooping - reaping
 [bad word] to my nightmare
It's the one in which I walk when I'm not sleeping

In thirteen twenty four
The one we've all been waiting for
Nineteen eighty-four

There's a little man left to hold the can
He don't know how and his only plan
Is everlasting life

He beats the street with his plates of meat
In the sandwich board of his final retreat
Bellowing goodbye

Everyone sees and nobody shares
Everyone knows its the [bad word] that he bears
That the end is nigh

And he stands against the rails at Oxford Circus
Leafleting the souls who keep this pace
That gathers speed and calls itself
The human race

And shadows fight with men of straw
In pockets of derision
While mother checks up on the stars
Denies her intuition
And sends young Julia to school
To learn an empty vision
That's full of paper tiger rats
To pass to her own children
 [bad word] to my nightmare
I'm the father, son and whole polluted system

In nineteen eighty-four
Nineteen eighty-four
Nineteen eighty-four
The one we've all been longing for
Nineteen eighty-four