Chairman Of The Bored Lyrics - Stations Of The Crass - Crass

Tiring moments, fucked up minds 

Empty faces, eyes that are blind 

Flick through the papers, car crash death 

Vacant pages offer no breath 

Of hope, future, possibility 

To those fucked up mindless people who haven't got the eyes 

To see that the pages of The Guardian or the pages of The Sun 

Are just a load of fucking lies, are just a fucking con 

Why do they feed us rubbish? Why do they feed us shit? 

Is this really what they think we want? 

Scrapings from the pit? 

Why don't they give us something which isn't just their lies 

Their own particular angle from their own unseeing eyes? 

I'm the chairman of the bored, and I'm asking for some truth 

I'm the chairman of the bored, and I'm looking for some proof 

That there's something more than their fucked up game 

That their mindless lives and mine aren't the same 

I'm looking for something that I can call my own 

Which ain't a Ford Cortina or a mortgage on a home 

I'm the chairman of the bored, ad I'm asking for some truth 

I'm the chairman of the bored, and I'm looking for some proof