Pigeons, wearing peacock feathers

But I can smell the stale bread, I can hear an empty head

Did you lose all your religion?

Was it the death of god? Then again, maybe not

Was that life? Well I say then once more

And they say “not again”, eyes rolling on the floor

Wasps in a hive, you’ve seen it all before

In every big city, the sight ain’t so pretty

Twinkle twinkle little star, do you remember who you are?

Diamond dust or shattered glass? This irony is growing rust

Tyranny or culture? Pigeon or a vulture?

Who was the first lost soul to lie that cynical will suit you?

Well I’m just having fun, my disco sounds like punk

And you can’t tell us what to do

What we’re supposed to do, how we’re supposed to be

Yeah you can play pretend until the very end

Which mind is locked, which mind is free?

80’s tracksuit, gloomy basement, somebody killed the groove, nobody move

Are you waiting for a hip replacement or for the other pigeons to approve?

Is there anything you truly love?

You’re no better than those you hate

Can’t find no answers when you have no questions

Better late than ever, and you’re already late

Well I’m just having fun, my disco sounds like punk

And you can’t tell us what to do

What we’re supposed to do, how we’re supposed to feel

Yeah you can play pretend until the very end

Which mind is locked, which mind is free?

Sometimes I wonder if it’s by design

Or was it planted by somebody in your head?

I know you’re trying really hard not to try anything

Cause if it’s easy, you’re already dead