| Round here
|
| These cannibal kids want to be kings
|
| They don’t see that kindness is courage
|
| Or that sympathy sings
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| Much louder than violence
|
| They are bitter and drained
|
| Eyes of ice stare from figures of flames
|
| They puff-chested, restless, nameless
|
| They’ve carried their pain
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| To the point of being painless
|
| Numb ones, young ones
|
| New latch-keys of London
|
| Soaking up the humdrum
|
| And it makes them want to run from
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| The state they’re in
|
| Powerless, penniless
|
| Feathers clipped, they find eagles' wings
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| In the derelict brotherhood of gang-life
|
| That bang-bang life
|
| That shouts louder than a sarcastic teacher
|
| Clapping hands twice
|
| And staring down a frightened nose
|
| They learned that respect comes from striking a pose
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| That demands it
|
| But we know respect and fear are not compatible
|
| A long way from bat and ball
|
| They don’t play, they let daggers fall
|
| From blood-soaked fingers
|
| While their siblings lie bleeding in hallways dead
|
| But like wisdom has always said
|
| Blood begets blood and keeps spilling
|
| So the pavements are stained
|
| And our hearts are grief-stricken
|
| Round here
|
| Cannibal kids want to be kings
|
| But there ain’t no royalty left
|
| Round here
|
| Sirens and the screams float on the wind
|
| And even the street shudders
|
| Afraid of our footsteps
|
| Round here
|
| Cannibal kids want to be kings
|
| But there ain’t no royalty left
|
| Sirens and the screams float on the wind
|
| And even the street shudders
|
| While that paranoid panic
|
| Goes seeping through the granite
|
| Of the breeze-blocks
|
| Turning our cities into sheep-flocks
|
| I pity those whose knees knock
|
| The victims of the media machine
|
| Poor souls who’ve forgotten how to dream
|
| You see, that cut-throat mentality’s
|
| Encouraged in business
|
| They tell you, to be a successful
|
| You’ve got to step on some necks
|
| So big money is made through that corporate pursuit
|
| They’re selling water and jailing kids for selling couple suits
|
| Please, born into blood-soaked cities of industry
|
| Informed of the savagery
|
| The infamy, barbarity of history
|
| Controlled, contrived, and depressed
|
| And attested, and stressed out and vexed
|
| It’s a message we’ve been fed
|
| So we could propagate their system
|
| Of division, inhibition
|
| Viciousness and contradiction
|
| We were suckled on the milk that they soured
|
| Told the future was ours
|
| And then disembowelled and disempowered
|
| We have been disgraced, deafened and deflowered
|
| Our brains brutalized and our defiance devoured
|
| And so now they’re shooting guns and robbing cats
|
| And trying to claw a little back
|
| But when the whole thing shatters
|
| It always starts with a little crack
|
| And then splinters stretching out for miles
|
| Pointing fingers at sharp suits with crocodile smiles
|
| But it’s us, we get the blame
|
| Told that life is all exchange
|
| Told that we are the children of capital
|
| That we are the children of apathy
|
| That we are the children of this rapidly changing reality
|
| But look, I say we learnt it from them
|
| From their rules and their ways
|
| Their legitimate businesses deceive and disgrace
|
| Look we learn it from them
|
| From their rules and their ways
|
| Their legitimate companies deceive and disgrace
|
| While us, we do what we can
|
| Because we live in this place
|
| Where the truth can’t be seen in the face
|
| Round here
|
| These cannibal kids want to be kings
|
| But there ain’t no royalty left
|
| Cause round here
|
| The sirens and screams float on the wind
|
| And even the street shudders
|
| Afraid of our footsteps
|
| Round here
|
| These cannibal kids want to be kings
|
| But there ain’t no royalty left
|
| Cause round here
|
| The sirens and screams float on the wind
|
| And even the street shudders
|
| Yes, even the street shudders |