Cellophane - That Petrol Emotion

In a world and in it’s sounds

In any street in any town I go

There’s a wreckage of desire

Of feelings never hired or sold

Where cellophane and thunder always come

And the factories of fantasies belong

I can only find the murder machine

I can only find the murder machine

From a notion of the times

To the hoodlum kitchen minds that die

From every mutant hour

To those who have the power who don’t try

Where the surplus sounds of sanity grow hoarse

And an abject slave mentality gets worse

I can only find the murder machine

I can only find the murder machine