it’s times like these when a neck looks for a knife,
a wrist for a razor, a heart is longing for bullets.
tension is high under sea and over sky.
pressure drop, people are acting foolish.
ooh — but it’s easy to see!
ooh — we could dance and be free.
ooh — to that 2-tone beat!
but it looks like it’s gone…
gangsters and clowns with a stereotyped sound
it’s coming like a ghosst town — someone always knew it.
hatred and shame, a racialist game
cycles of blame — someone sang me through it.
who? well it’s easy to see.
ooh — we could dance to be free.
ooh — to that 2-tone beat!
but it looks like it’s gone…
i asked jerry, he told terry, terry sang a song just for me,
lynvall gave a message to me,
rhoda screamed and then she asked me,
«where have all the rude boys gone?»
