I could've seen it in a magazine
The perfect picture of the Manhattan streets
A monologue from Carrie will make the scene feel complete
As the people fill up the commercial streets
I could be sitting here in London town
It's the weekend there are kids all around
The rustling of plastic is the universal sound, from Greenwich
To Greenwich, from dollars to pounds
You could be children of the revolution, but no
They go and beckon you into their loving arms and
Say son it's good to see you again
A child of fourteen fingers down their throat
Convulsing stomach she's starting to choke
The mirror rings loud with all the words they invoke
This feeling of worthlessness will help them promote
All of the products that they need you to buy
Shareholder profits over Children's lives
And they don't really care as all the tears that you cry
Will help them to wash away all their dirty lies
You could be children of the revolution, but no
They go and beckon you into their loving arms and
Say son it's good to see you again
You could be children of the revolution, but no
They go and beckon you into their loving arms and
Say son it's good to see you again