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88.2 is your Saviour station |
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God hangs like a shadow high above the nation |
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Like a phantom hurricane |
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91.6 is Classic Soul |
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Obama flyer still hanging by the side of the road |
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Like a long last prayer |
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And the pawn shops glisten like the porn girl stars |
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And the cheap imitation armoured cars |
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Roll up and down past empty bars |
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Showing re-runs of the glory years |
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But now the Champion of All Time is getting battered and bruised |
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The blows come raining down |
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He's standing there terrified to lose |
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But he's punch-drunk and he's going down |
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94.7 is the Weather Channel |
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Floods and droughts and plagues straight out of the Bible |
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And the scientists shake their heads |
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And the air-con unit rattles and dies |
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The golf course green but the wells are dry |
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All looking to heaven with anxious eyes |
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As the vapour trails drift across cloudless skies |
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96.4 is Classic Rock |
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Some of the kids that were sent are not coming back |
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It's like a ritual sacrifice |
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Pressed uniforms and body-bags |
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And the smalltown church all decked with flags |
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And the waiting beds unslept in |
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By the ghosts all up in Arlington |
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And as the leaves blow on an autumn day |
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The funeral gathering kneels to pray |
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Make it OK, make it OK, God, please, make it OK |
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101-point-nothing is the shock jocks |
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Where every week is Hate Week |
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And we can scream and rage about everything |
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Then get back in the box that they keep us in |
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As the great land stretches on |
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Where the endless hopes are born |
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All caught in a false dawn that lasts forever |
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And the great land stretches on |
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Where the endless dreams are born |
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All caught in a false dawn that lasts forever |
