In city shoes of clueless blues
 Pays the views and no man's news
 Blades will fade from blood to sport
 The heroin's cut these fuses short

 Smokers rode a colonial pig
 Drink and frame, this pain I think
 I'm melting silver poles my dear
 You bleed your wings and then disappear

 The moving scenes and pilot lights
 Smithereens have got 'em scaling heights
 Modern [bad word] talk me down
 And battle lines are drawn across this town

 Parisian boys without your names
 Ghetto stones instead of chains
 Talk 'em down 'cause it's up in flames
 And nothing's changed

 Parisian boys without your names
 Riot like 1968 again
 The days of rage, yeah, nothing's changed
 Well pretty flames

 In school, I would just bite my tongue
 And now your words, they strike me down
 The flags are false and they contradict
 They point and click which wounds to lick

 On avenues, this Christian breeze
 Turns its heart to more needles please
 Our eyes roll back and we beg for more
 It frays this skin and then underscore

 The case for war you spin and bleed
 The cells you fill screen savers feed
 The girls you breed, the soaps that you write
 The graceless charm of your gutter snipes

 The moving scenes and suburbanites
 And smithereens got 'em scaling heights
 Modern [bad word] talk me down
 The battle lines are drawn across this town

 English boys without your names
 Ghetto stones instead of chains
 Hearts and minds, and U.S. planes
 Nothing's changed

 And English boys without your names
 Riot like the 1980's again
 The days of rage, yeah, nothing's changed
 More pretty flames