Part I - Blinded by the Sun
Bring me back again, I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
Someone reel me in, I'm drifting ever farther from my home.
I remember when I was a baby
gazing in amazement at the sky.
Sing it twinkle twinkle little baby
daddy's gonna learn you to fly...
high...
like a comet through the sky.
Bring me back again, I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
I'm drifting with the wind, trying to hold the course that I've been shown.
I remember when I was a baby
staring in amazement at the sun.
Better shield your eyes now little baby
no one ever said you were the one;
no one ever said you were the one
who can't be blinded by the sun.
I think I'm blinded by the sun.
Part II - Sanity is Coming to Town
I like to taunt,
I like to tease.
I'll bring your psyche to its knees.
Juggling. Sanity is coming to your town.
Who gives a damn what you say,
you're pissing all your dreams away.
Juggling. Sanity is coming to your town.
Part III - Pressing Onward Towards the Light
Pressing onward through the night. Pressing onward towards the light.Gather round and listen and I'll tell you how's it's done
How they manage to make idiots out of everyone
Take a human population with their hunger and their pain
And the weaknesses that cripple them again and again
Invent a splendid party where dreams can be won
And with bright flashing lights, the heartaches are gone
With sex and with money and with everything for free
Then show tantalising glimpses every night on TV.
Watch the dirty hands that laboured hard for you
Stretching out like children for a crumb that they can chew
Give a car and video and a little bit to spare
And go on promising that more could all be theirs
Chorus:
All lies, all lies, all schemes all schemes
Every winner means a looser in the western dream
The producer swears silently it cannot be heard
And the camera crew are muttering those four letter words
Another take is needed so the show can go on
With a patronising smile and a popular song
They tell when to laugh, they tell you when to cheer
So the audience at home will get the right idea
They watch like children left out of a playground gang
Conforming their lives the way they hope will get them in
Chorus:
All lies, all lies, all schemes all schemes
Every winner means a looser in the western dream
It seems to me sometimes there's only two ways to choose
In this whirlpool made of a thousands years
Either live in these ghettos and know your place
Or you trample over everyone in the human race
I wish we could find another way to go
Without the Ghost of Cain in everything we do
The bitterness in failure and the dirt in success
This is our choice