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Deep Fried In Kelvin

Oh, children of the future

Conceived in the toilets at Meadow hall

To be raised on the cheap cold slabs of garage floors

Rolling empty cans down the stairway

Don't you love that sound?

Whilst the thoughts of a bad social worker ran through his headTrying to remember what he learnt at training college

Lester said he wasn't allowed in here

So why don't you get lost?And if you grow up then when you grow up

Maybe, maybe you can live, live on Kelvin

Yeah, you can live in Kelvin on the promenade

With the concrete walkways where pigeons go to dieA woman on the fourteenth floor noticed

That the ceiling was bulging as if under a great weight

When the council investigated they discovered

That the man in the flat above had transported

A large quantity of soil into his living-roomIn which several plants he had stolen

From a local park were growing

When questioned the man said all he wanted was a garden

When questioned the man said all he wanted was a gardenOh God, I think the future's been fried deep fried in Kelvin

And now it's rotting behind the remains of a stolen motorbike

I haven't touched it, honest but there isn't anything else to doWe don't need your sad attempts

At social conscience based on taxi-rides

Home at night when exhibition opens

We just want your car radio and those Reflux speakers nowSuffer the little children to come to me

And I will tend their adventure playground splinters with cigarette burns

And feed them fizzy orange and chips

And then they grow up straight and tall

And then they grow up to live on KelvinOh yeah, we can have ghettos too

Only we use air-rifles instead of machine guns

Stitch that and we drunk driving lightsIn the end the question you have to ask yourself is

Are you talking to me or are you chewing a brick?

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