Gloria Gloom
Robert Wyatt, Bill MacCormick
Like so many of you
I've got my doubts about how much to contribute
To the already rich among us
How long can I pretend that music's more relevant
Than fighting for a socialist world
Someone watching us, knows I'm bad
Black plastic along blue-black wall
Small square of places
Where dead men can look through
Run along and see the prison bar
Throw a stone across an empty road
You and your friend will be found
Outside the daydream
I've woken up to watch you sleep
