Glitter and sweatervests (the birth of a riot)

sex on the porch, he shoots and scores
kids 'round the way sulk with hands in their pockets
a nation stares, too bored to care
here in the suburbs, it's the pulse of the new breed
bookish and smart, majored in art
stillborn and swearing, they won't take what's on offer
she's dressed in black, certainly scorned
here in the clubs, it's the birth of a riot

we are the scene, the new disease
glitter and sweatervests are suddenly in vogue
we are the scene in magazines
this is the sound of your radio on fire
we are the scene on tv screens
glitter and sweatervests are suddenly in vogue
we are the scene, the new regime

pissing in streets, sleep in stained sheets
no talk of peace, all we want is disruption
burn down the shopping malls, we'll feast on the rich kids
restless and bored, we're the bane of your household
your only choice, your last resort
put on your makeup, lose yourself in the dark lights
nirvana's dead, pop music's dead
your home sweet home, it's the death of a riot

don't need to know
don't need to care
about the sound of noise we're making
you're being warned
you've been warned
this time of being boring has ended
don't talk of scenes, there's no scene
pathetic rejects in their armchairs
take back the night, bring back the sound
this is the sound of your culture at war

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Athletes

well true love is blooming
in the lot by the bay, so
we're here now, we're peering
through all the steamed windshields
it always starts the same
hand up the blouse, she's nervous
the glory, the conquest, if he can convince her
he'll be there, he'll love her, he'll wave when she greets him

under the clearest moon
she said that he should wait but
she was outvoted two to one
he'll show you heaven soon
what would your mother say

the talk of the town
and the boys' bathroom walls
but he promised, she worries
a nagging sense lingers
the stories spun in the gym
they circulate through the school
and now we're scarred for life

the girls against the boys
the newest contact sport and
the battleground is your school
some people do it for sport
while others do it alone

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Song for the brokenhearted

it''s a shame to see you're so shy and so scared
a pen in the hand and the empires fall
starve for the millions who don't know your name
tear-drenched skin, you're in a rut again
i don't believe in idols or love
but i believe in you
the room's gotten colder, your muse left you bare
the pen's defeated again

this is the song for the brokenhearted
their heads held in their hands
yes, a song for the sick and tired
the marvels in their brains
and they will call your name in a few years' time
singing your praises after you've passed
it's the song for the brokenhearted
the likes of you and i

the world you know is a heartless place
and the words run through your veins
those people out there need you more than ever
as they tiptoe through another day
and on the high streets of selden town
the sound of muffled sighs, the sound of humbled cries

it's a song for the brokenhearted
the legends in their heads
yes, the song for the tortured artist
the scourges of their homes
and they will say your name in the same air
as someone say, baudelaire
it's the song for the brokenhearted
the likes of you and i

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Death of a soccer mom

sound the alarm, a special report
a soccer mom has died today
the evening newsman nearly missed his cues
a soccer mother passed away
fulfilling her faithful patriotic duty
picking up her kids from school
with every mile, economy's kept afloat
driving in her suv
trudging through another day of toil
a day in the life of a cog
into a tractor-trailer, she drove
into a tractor-trailer, she died

one down but millions to go
the hallmark of modern living
clogging the motorways
singing homogenised songs
they need to go... and they must go NOW

two kids pacing, pacing by the bus stop
waiting for their mother's arrival
miles away, the shrieking of the sirens
your mother, boys, won't come today
saturdays won't be the same again
now that there is one van short
the shouts from the stands, the cellphones ringing aloud
never to be heard again
in the carnage is a life unfinished
patron saint of servitude
her days summarised in a soundbite or two
and that was the evening news...

there she lies inside the beast of burden
victim of the modern world
tomorrow will come, the roads will clear again
traffic on the motorway

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Delusional

the envious elite in this town of no importance
they're sheltered and surrounded by their parents' open wallets
no surprises left, she said we're doomed, we've seen it all
dreams of leaving but money speaks, she has no answers

she's gone delusional, in your eyes a young diminishing star
her parents sigh, you were born here, this is where you'll stay
she's gone delusional, they're just jealous, so jealous
they city calls and it's your time

he rooftop is her pulpit, it's where she's safe from all the doubters
they march to beats of soundbites, see them hear it, repeat it, forget it
what's more shocking... logic, love, ambition
she wants to be a writer
to have the living you people owed her
shots in your direction, hollow and desperate, so dry your eyes

you're sad and lonely
your fists are clenched
you're safe when you close your eyes
you don't belong here

you were born here
they want you to die here
a great disappointment
a perennial best seller

jumbled up in thought
love, war, fear, sex, she always said it, you never listened
strength, longing, desire, passion, she always had it, you never bothered

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