| We are only young
|
| But we style our future with a cattle gun
|
| And we aren’t idle rich
|
| So we smile for tomorrow with a bitch of an itch
|
| Cause when the firelight shocks like a cop shop pyre
|
| We’ll sack the politics for premonition and fire
|
| And we’ll move like nureyev that night
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| Coast to coast side to side
|
| Shines the lies of fine enlightened minds
|
| Coast to coast
|
| We are only young
|
| But we style our future in the shadow of guns
|
| And we are not idle rich
|
| So we smile for tomorrow with a bitch of an itch
|
| Cause when the stylised kick of the filmstar whip
|
| Cracks down on the millions,
|
| Cracks the kids on their hips
|
| Then we’ll move like nuryev that night
|
| 'Cos coast to coast, side to side
|
| Shines the lies of fine enlightened minds
|
| Coast to coast, side to side
|
| Feel the steel that shines outside the blinds
|
| Coast to coast, side to side
|
| Blades engraved with babies’names
|
| While pylons hide the suicide
|
| Coast to coast, side to side
|
| Shines the light of fine enlightened minds
|
| Coast to coast, side to side
|
| Feel the steel that shines outside the blinds
|
| Coast to coast, side to side
|
| Blades engraved with babies’names
|
| While pylons hide the suicides |