Meet me on the wastelands - later this day,
|
We'll sit and talk and hold hands maybe,
|
For there's not much else to do in this drab and colourless
|
place.
|
We'll sit amongst the rubber tyres,
|
Amongst the discarded bric-a-brac,
|
People have no use for - amongst the smouldering embers of
|
yesterday.
|
|
And when or if the sun shines,
|
Lighting our once beautiful features,
|
We'll smile but only for seconds,
|
For to be caught smiling is to acknowledge life,
|
A brave but useless show of compassion,
|
And that is forbidden in this drab and colourless world.
|
|
Meet me on the wastelands - the ones behind,
|
The old houses - the ones - left standing pre-war -
|
The ones overshadowed by the monolith monstrosities -
|
councils call homes.
|
|
And there amongst the shit - the dirty linen,
|
The holy Coca-Cola tins - the punctured footballs,
|
The ragged dolls - the rusting bicycles,
|
We'll sit and probably hold hands.
|
|
And watch the rain fall - watch it - watch it -
|
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
|
Like our lives - like our lives -
|
Just like our lives.
|
|
We'll talk about the old days,
|
When the wasteland was release when we could play,
|
And think - without feeling guilty -
|
Meet me later but we'll have to hold hands.
|
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
|
Like our lives - like our lives -
|
Exactly like our lives.
|
|
-----------------
|
WASTELAND
|
| The Jam |
