Take Me Back to Britain


I play silent detective
with the sins I think but never share.
My opinions are silent,
I would shout but I don't dare.
My apathy is bleeding down everybody's arm,
and I refuse my heart upon my sleeve, I wouldn't risk the harm.
Oh, it's time.

Take me back to Britain.
Take me home, take me home.

I watch politicians twist away
from the words in what they try to say
if it looks good on TV.
Throug fantasies, transitions, and all my blind ambitions,
I keep searching for my beliefs.
Injustice and the threat of war
are knocking on my front door.
And I'm afraid to look and see,
cause I know they'll look like me.
Oh, it's time.

Take me back to Britain.
Take me back to London in the fog.
Take me back to Britain,
back to the lair of man's modern God.

You say commitment's up and died
and resentment's riding on the tide
of every wave.
It crashes on the plans you've made
and all the apologies you've saved
for a rainy day.
But what's the right word?
What's the right way?
Do I cross that line?
Do I cross or stay?


Take Me Back to Britain is copyright 1994 Liberal Materialists Music

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