In the bright-lit railway station, 3 a.m. In a town whose active life is at an end I was met by a rich man dressed in a panda fur Who said, "if i can keep smiling i can change the world." What world? "lord straight banana, lord paper twine, Lord biting yo-yo, they're all friends of mine. Lord trannie dolequeue, lord private zoo, Lord hanging bishop and lord valium, too." "i know you think you have a job But the whole world knows it's ended. Why do you laugh at the dying of the senile god On whom your devilish life depended?" Shop-soiled and broken In a part not clearly seen You'll have no armegeddon, no more screams Pleasant dreams... Chorus: Your world, your world, your world customer Your world, your world, your world, your world I said, "i'm sure your faith in what you cannot see Has made your slumbers sounder but it won't work for me. I am sick of fresh starts, of the promises i've heard From my lips and others of a brighter world." "now i'm a punchdrunk sailor who cannot picture land, An exhausted atom in a grain of sand. They who can't be frozen like a teenage corpse Must be isolated and tied up in knots." Fake chrome and a lick of paint And a change of name announced By some menswear dummy turned messenger Of a master whose name he cannot pronounce You feast on bargain-basement dregs Get your self-delusions off the well-worn peg No new hierarchy, female or male No santa, elvis or holy grail Shop-soiled and clueless, too indebted to inspect What both feeds and defets you--no respect I'm beaten, but i still reject This world, just like a sentence Without crime or guilt or sin So give the panda back his skin And give the berries back their gin--chorus