The tap-wire telegraph buzzes into life
The bloodied hands twisting the knife
Disguising the story between the lines
Sensationalised through jaundiced eyes
We don't see the plotting between truth and lies
and propaganda buried beneath black and white
On through the night these rumour mills churn
On and on.....
They control the balance of power
yet they talk of peace
But it's all just hollow words from my TV screen
It means nothing in these streets
So for salvation we look to the skies
The thunder above us as brave heroes fly
On the orders of the protected few
(The short sighted view)
So we distract ourselves
and try to get back to our lives
But the paranoia spreads
deeper and deeper they've pushed this wedge
Where once you would be my brother
now we're strangers to one another
But we have nowhere left to hide
on either side of the great divide
This is not our fight
No this is not our fight
This is not our fight
But you won't read that in black and white
