In celebration of logic, design and cultivation
A fluctuating IQ before the birth of a nation
Ordered apple groves gave way to paranoia
As radio-waves broadcast dementia
Of puttering, spluttering forcing of arms
And embittered war-cries that flicker then die
The old men play bowls amidst graffiti
While we feed at the seat of the plenty
There’s still some room at the temple
For those that like to disassemble
The blood and confusion down the time-stream
We’ve now got the freedom to dream
Now we have the freedom to dream
We’ve still got the freedom to dream