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