Confessions Of A Pop-Group - The Style Council

Cheap and tacky bullshit land

Told when to sit don’t know where you stand

Too busy recreating the past to live in the future

Poor relations to Uncle Sam

Bears no relation to the country man

Too busy being someone else to be who you really are

Shitty plastic prefab town

Mind where you walk when the sun goes down

Too busy hating others to even love your own

Bobbies on the beat again

Beating blacks for blues again

It’s one way to get involved in the community

Love me, love my jeans

I must buy shares in Heinz baked beans

Too busy buying up, selling out, selling off

3,2,1, in others terms

Win a life sentence and a queen mum perm

The individuals that state, in a state of seige

Do pop and press and mix, do tits and news stew

The next one in the poor house could be you

Too busy saying «thank you» to say what for?

No time to spare — «spare me a dime»?

The Great Depression is organised crime

Their confessions are written in your blood

Kiss your ass an' dreams goodbye

Come back when you’ve learnt to cry

Too busy try’na be strong to see how weak you are

Wave your flags and waive your fate

The freedom you claim is the one you hate

The victory you seek will never come

Brutal views through brutal eyes

See no future, hear no lies

Speak no truth to me or the people I love

When I grow up I want to be

All the things you’ve never been

And your opinion will count for none

Headed

For the breakdown