From generation to generation it continues.
Passing on the fear and the guilt.
Handing down
the lust for power
and the lack of vision that results.
From father to son,
the prejudice lives on.
Teaching the good old way.
How to exploit, to profit, to gain.
Let no one else have their say.
And some rebel,
but most agree.
As father would say:
"What's in it for me?"
So the boy takes the gun,
like a dutiful son.
The world's not yet destroyed.
Can he get the job done?
Can he get the job...
Can he get the job
DONE?!
 ''Concrete''
Concrete walls are spreading.
You see them more and more.
Soon we will be so cut off,
we won't know what life is for.
Some are shocked in mental homes,
or locked behind prison walls.
The rest of us get office blocks,
highways and shopping malls.
Those shopping centres are advancing,
covering the hills.
This one has twenty restaurants.
To glut away our ills.
Back at the institutions
that wait beyond these walls.
Guards live in houses in a row,
and they're behind the fences too.
Radio waves don't like concrete
if your driving in a car.
you're trying to get a message through.
You have the radio on.
Your driving under an overpass
and the music's power is gone.