Teléfonos / White Trash

Night is down in insect town

I'm sitting here glued to the glowing tube

Tedious, tedium, flowing slow

I'm crying for something I could really use

We're worker ants, or ants with wings

Saying "God I'm high" or "Christ, I'm late"

Asking girls and women

"Won't you show us the way

To crumple sheets and naughtier things? "

But it's sad, so sad

The old people never had not quite so bad

(not this way, anyway)

And it,s sad, sad, sad

The sadness of a long dead star on late night TV

The sadness of shooting away your bloom

And of old crumpled men in their workday suits

And telephones ringing in empty rooms

All the birs have flown from the uptown

And a family I know has built an ark

It's been raining long in a steady flow

And newspaper headlines read bad and stark

But is sad, so sad

The old people never had not quite so bad.

SKa ,Ska,....

People of Babylon, if you want to be wrong

You've got to be strong

If not you'll go down

Down, down down

You can bite the hands that feeds you

Spit in the face of those who needs you

But when you're old, who is gonna feed you

When you're on your own?

I hear my black brothers every day

Saying how they've been put down in so many ways

Well, what about us Rasta?

Some of us been treated just the same way

I look around and all I see is

White trash in a Babylon

White trash in a London

White trash right here in Buenos Aires town

Ska, Ska...

People of the Argentine

You eat your meat everyday

And you dress so fine

What about your brothers in Africa

Dying, starving

All of the time?

Well you can bite the hand...

I look around and all I see is

White trash in Birmingham

White trash in Twinckenham

White trash where I live in Hurlingham