Texty: Mischief Brew. Citizens Drive.

no one knows my politics like the postman, he brings me radical

i bet the neighbours are wondering what i got in this bag

they say the city virus broke its borders once again, fell down the lane, packed up and ran

where the doors all lock at nine, every creek is like cannonfire

there's an old crooked man in an old crooked house he says i don't open up on all saints day

ya never know what devil might be wating there to steal your tv.

as he sits there watching a story about another robbery, he turns on a light to stave off thieves

the world is sick i think its dying, i watch it go through these dusty blinds

alive in these houses locked inside there's blood on the door and candlelight

night close your eyes and wish it bye call up the police to sing their lullabies

late our hero john wayne put guns in our living rooms gates round our names give us a face to join up and hate keep tiny town pure and sane behind these bolts theres a brewing revolt and it rusts in every one of us

so put a yellow ribbon on your exterminator and head westward across the tracks

i got a dream where we all say see you later and never say we'll come back

im looking out the window down on citizens drive where all the elders are terrified, will that be you and i?