in visions of acid we saw through delusion and brainbox pollution we knew we were right the streets were our oyster we smoked urban poison and turned all this noise on we knew how to fight we dropped out and tuned in spoke secret jargon and we did not bargain for what we had found in the days of the underground
we believed in guevera we saw that head held up and our anger welled up but we kept it cool no need for machine guns the system was crumbling our leaders were fumbling while we broke every rule we saw them on t.v. they'd blown their cover and we tried to smother their voices with sound in the days of the underground
what ever happened to those chromium heroes are there none of them still left around since the days (daze) of the underground?
now we can look back at the heroes we were then we made quite a stir then with our sonic attack street fighting dancers assassins of silence with make believe violence on a hundred watt stack they offered us contracts we said we don't need 'em we'll just take our freedom and will not be bound in the days of the underground.
and some of us made it but not smiling Michael his black motor cycle got eaten by rust and john the bog dreamt that he slept at the wheel when he woke it was real too late to have sussed and jeff was a poet who wrote with a spray can on walls saying: hey man i believe that we have drowned in the days of the underground.
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