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The panorama of the city is wrong

In fact, the city seems to be gone

Burning rubber and smoke in my eyes

It's a flat, burning junkheap for twenty square miles

They took it in the nuclear mine



Judging by this, they left nothing behind

Down in the bunkers in the crust of the earth

Now crouch the wealthy and the noble of birth



If I could ride a train around the city

That holds this as our fate

I'd ride from electro-circuit central

To the shock-inducer gates

Not forgetting the bypass

Across the Washington hooks

Through the phones and desks and screens

Of the Kremlin's crook of crooks



There's some panel in a circuit board

A destination of the override

Scanning the wild wind

Blowing through the Berlin corridor

Spotlit in a palace, shielded from dust

Malfunction or not, the failsafe is the crux

So far away from us, shaking with the mystery tears



One lonely night in Ladbroke Grove

Far away in the deserts of Omaha

They got it nailed down, Swiss-tight

The banknotes of Europe, the emperors and kings

Curl in the autumn, as the burning of leaves

And I cleaned by black guitar

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