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Watchman, Walkman
Touch ground, Thinkman
I must attack the heartless giant
from inside while others sleep
infiltrate production lines
of broadcasting elite
who elevate the meaningless
with finance and impressions of what other people need.
The network never weeps
it never cries for you to stop
there's a naked head to rescue
It's so lonely at the top.
We are the men of tomorrow
and we wish you were here --
wish you were here...
Watchman, Walkman
Touch ground, Thinkman
I must ignite the frozen conscience
when the mind that rules is weak
sabatoge the air waves
till the cowards are in retreat
crush the casual hand before it signs away
the only antidote for a corporation seat.
The network never weeps
it never cries for you to stop
there's a virus in the system
fighting apathy with shock
We are the men of tomorrow
and we wish you were here --
wish you were here...
Watchman, Walkman
Touch ground, Thinkman...
the network never weeps
it never cries for you to stop
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Guitars: KEITH MORE, JAMIE WEST-ORAM
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