Turn It Off

Each time you turn the television on

There's fighting in the streets of some far city

That used to have a pretty face

But now it's just a barren waste, a pity

But after so much war for years

I don't have many tears left

So turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off

Every day I read about some thief

Who's just been made a chief of some big TV

That's seven hundred metres tall

And made of glass and in the hall

An oak tree that was there and will be there

Long after the tribe has gone

So turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off

Is there a field where I can leave that world behind

And breathe some clean air?

Snug and concealed with just the sound of busy bees

And wind in my hair

Let the mob devour itself

I won't care, I won't hear them

So turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off

Turn it off