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Conflict – Someday Soon lyrics
Someday soon we'll take vacations on the moon.
Someday soon we'll build great cities under water.
Someday son we'll create the ultimate human being.
Someday soon you won't believe in what you're seeing.
And yet they can't find a cure for a common cold,
But they can reconstruct a face,
Back to the young from the old.
The cancer spreads, the aids develops in it's victims,
Science counts the cost in lives,
The cause and not the cure succeeds.
A child fights for life, in a state of confucion.
Dragged up in a cesspit full of class'a'illusions.
The progress chart monitors, brilliant achievemets.
It's a world where technology easily outweighs bereavement.
The market remains flooded with drugs that only suppress,
Twenty types that all do the same thing,
Profit and screw all the rest.
Who drop dead in the queue, to receive operations,
As the government reveal their new million pound sensation.
Dancing at the policemen's ball again,
We sing our songs of disgust,
But they don't hear a thing with heads held up high
They raise a toast to progression, and a record breaking
Turnover tenth year in succession.
There stands a woman she has no face.
Her baby cries out dying arms outstretched for embrace.
They have no stake in the society that demands their respect.
A world with any hope is all they can expect
Someday soon we'll build great cities under water.
Someday son we'll create the ultimate human being.
Someday soon you won't believe in what you're seeing.
And yet they can't find a cure for a common cold,
But they can reconstruct a face,
Back to the young from the old.
The cancer spreads, the aids develops in it's victims,
Science counts the cost in lives,
The cause and not the cure succeeds.
A child fights for life, in a state of confucion.
Dragged up in a cesspit full of class'a'illusions.
The progress chart monitors, brilliant achievemets.
It's a world where technology easily outweighs bereavement.
The market remains flooded with drugs that only suppress,
Twenty types that all do the same thing,
Profit and screw all the rest.
Who drop dead in the queue, to receive operations,
As the government reveal their new million pound sensation.
Dancing at the policemen's ball again,
We sing our songs of disgust,
But they don't hear a thing with heads held up high
They raise a toast to progression, and a record breaking
Turnover tenth year in succession.
There stands a woman she has no face.
Her baby cries out dying arms outstretched for embrace.
They have no stake in the society that demands their respect.
A world with any hope is all they can expect
Lyrics taken from
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