Oh, children of the future
Conceived in the toilets at Meadowhall
To be raised on the cheap cold slabs of garage floors
Rolling empty cans down the stairwell
Don't you love that sound?
Whilst the thoughts of a bad social worker ran through his head

Trying to remember what he learnt at training college
Lester said he wasn't allowed in here
So why don't you get lost?

And if you're good
Then when you grow up, maybe
Maybe you can live
Live on Kelvin
Yeah you can live in Kelvin
On the promenade with the concrete walkways
Where pigeons go to die

A woman on the fourteenth floor noticed that the ceiling was bulging as if under a great weight
When the council investigated, they discovered that the man in the flat above had transported a large quantity of soil into his living room, in which several plants he had stolen from a local park were growing
When questioned, the man said all he wanted was a garden
When questioned, the man said all he wanted was a garden

Oh God, I think the future's been fried
Deep fried in Kelvin
And now it's rotting behind the remains of a stolen motorbike
I haven't touched it, honest
But there wasn't anything else to do
We don't need your sad attempts at social conscience
Based on taxi rides home at night from exhibition openings
We just want your car radio
And those Reflux speakers
Now
Suffer the little children to come to me
And I will tend their adventure playground splinters and cigarette burns
And feed them fizzy orange and chips
That they may grow up straight and tall
That they may grow up to live
On Kelvin
Oh yeah
We can have ghettos too
Only we use air rifles instead of machine guns
Stitch that
And we drink Diamond White

In the end
The question you have to ask yourself is
Are you talking to me
Or are you
Chewing a brick?