No, not that. Lyrics. Lyrics, lyrics, lyrics. Won't this be fun?
Let's start with what is almost certainly not a tribute to this blog, considering it was written in 1984. Though that year does have prophetic connotations.
A son of a swastika of '45 parading a peroxide standard.
Graffiti disciples conjure testaments of hatred.
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedges.
This is Brixton chess!
I couldn't agree more.
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing