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Well, you say it's such a small, small world |
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flying Club Class back from the far-east |
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curled up safe and warm in the big chair |
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you were drifting through the skies of anywhere |
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Get the courtesy car to the Sheraton |
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there's live on-the-spot reports on the CNN between the ad-breaks |
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so you think you know what's going on - but you don't |
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because you weren't in Belfast, no you weren't there |
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and no you weren't in Waco, no you weren't there |
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and you weren't in Kosovo, you weren't there |
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and you weren't in my head so you don't know how it felt |
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walking arm in arm with crowds to the square |
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and the banners waving and the sun glinting |
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All this information swims round and round |
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like a shoal of fish in a tank going nowhere |
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Up and down between the glass walls |
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You're so safe in the knowledge they're impenetrable |
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and you look out at the world and see nothing at all |
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so go back to sleep and you'll be woken when the time comes |
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and you'll never know just what hit you or where it came from |
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because you weren't in Bradford, no you weren't there |
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and you weren't on the hill, no you weren't there |
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and you weren't with us so you never saw |
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just what happened when the television crews came knocking on the door |
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how the people told them all to go to Hell, |
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smashed the cameras and sent them away |
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There were sirens going off and policemen coming in |
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and all that you love was being swept away |
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in the rush of a black tide all done in your name |
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and you'll never know just what happened there |
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or how it feels - just how it feels . . . |
