Besedila: Jam (The). Setting Sons. Wasteland.

Meet me on the wastelands
later this day,
We'll sit and talk and hold hands maybe,
For there's not much else to do in this drab and colourless place.
We'll sit amongst the rubber tyres,
Amongst the discarded bric-a-brac,
People have no use for

amongst the smouldering embers of yesterday.
And when or if the sun shines,
Lighting our once beautiful features,
We'll smile but only for seconds,
For to be caught smiling is to acknowledge life,
A brave but useless show of compassion,
And that is forbidden in this drab and colourless world.

Meet me on the wastelands

the ones behind,
The old houses
the ones
left standing pre-war -
The ones overshadowed by the monolith monstrosities

councils call homes.
And there amongst the shit

the dirty linen,
The holy Coca-Cola tins
the punctured footballs,
The ragged dolls
the rusting bicycles,
We'll sit and probably hold hands.
And watch the rain fall

watch it
watch it -
Tumble and fall
tumble and falling -
Like our lives
like our lives -
Just like our lives.
We'll talk about the old days,
When the wasteland was release when we could play,
And think

without feeling guilty -
Meet me later but we'll have to hold hands.
Tumble and fall
tumble and falling -
Like our lives
like our lives -
Exactly like our lives