NOTHING NEW

 

I heard the man on t.v.

selling music for the brand new age

And thought about conformists

who had built their fortunes out of rage

Their tongues of revolution stilled

by treadmill time society

And fashion's creeping clutching hand

threw shut the door and turned the key

 

You ain't saying anything new babe,

somewhere you've said this before

You've got nothing to prove to me baby,

just look around you some more...

 

I've heard the Disco Syndrums metamorphose

into cracking whips

The dances change, the fashions change,

exclusion stays, you're still too hip

A bunch of frightened people

throwing water on a primal fire

Stifling by clinging

in a crowd you mask your real desires

 

You ain't saying anything new babe,

somewhere you've said this before.

You've got nothing to prove to me baby,

I see exclusion galore.

 

And it's nothing new.

 

G.S., '82

 

GS: vocals, guitars, drums, organ 

 

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