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Lift up your head, lift up your headYour room in this decade of eathquake and bileawaits you like a stewardess's mortuary smileYou'll miss all the fun, you'll miss all the funA rich man turned pauper, his death marked [a sham]I can't get back to see it, 'til you lift up your headMe and mine are fools, me and mine are foolssay our elders who despise us, though we're no longer youngThey're tired of our sneering, and we've blocked out their main street's sunThey're sleeping as we rise, one punch is drunk with prideresides in [brutal face], sick from petrol smoke and [steak]The few bohemians, with their too-white shopping wristsconfide in some crimson [page]and pray to look cute in their squalor-dyed hairOld ageRolled out of here, is sun bright and clearand we hold the fortune, in our cumulousThere's nothing else on earth that I will be part ofWhy waste a lifetime on soil which won't bear fruit?and why argue with gangsters who only smile and act mute?If he pulls that trigger, as he says he must,then to them, goes the last word [and then]The sleep of the just, the sleep of the just, the sleep of the justBut that's never enoughBut that's never, never enough Aus Songtexte Mania