Voices of Babylon
The Outfield  

(John Spinks) 

Hit the message I can hear you calling. 
No one´s going anywhere tonight. 
We conceived a modern generation. 
It was free, but now we pay the price. 

We´re the victims of our own creation, 
Chasing rainbows that are painted black or white. 
Watch the struggle of our own temptation. 
Instincts barely keeping us alive. 

Back to the rhythm that we all came from. 
Voices of Babylon, streets of London. 
Back to the people that we know so well. 
A space in time removed too soon to tell. 

Just a product of our imagination, 
Patiently, we wait for our turn to come. 
A small collection of the population. 
By the time our number´s up, we could be gone. 

Back to the rhythm that we all came from. 
Voices of Babylon, streets of London. 
Back to the people that we know so well. 
A space in time removed too soon to tell. 

Back to the rhythm that we all came from. 
Voices of Babylon, streets of London town. 

From: Astorian@aol.com