In the bright-lit railway station, 3 A.M.   in a town whose active life is at an end   I was met by a rich man dressed in a panda fur   who said, "If I can keep smiling I can change the world."   What world?      "Lord Straight Banana, Lord Paper Twine,   Lord Biting Yo-Yo, they're all friends of mine.   Lord Trannie Dolequeue, Lord Private Zoo,   Lord Hanging Bishop and Lord Valium, too."      "I know you think you have a job   but the whole world knows it's ended.   Why do you laugh at the dying of the senile god   on whom your devilish life depended?"      Shop-soiled and broken   in a part not clearly seen   You'll have no Armegeddon, no more screams   Pleasant dreams...      CHORUS:   Your world, your world, your world customer   Your world, your world, your world, your world      I said, "I'm sure your faith in what you cannot see   has made your slumbers sounder but it won't work for me.   I am sick of fresh starts, of the promises I've heard   from my lips and others of a brighter world."      "Now I'm a punchdrunk sailor who cannot picture land,   an exhausted atom in a grain of sand.   They who can't be frozen like a teenage corpse   must be isolated and tied up in knots."      Fake chrome and a lick of paint   and a change of name announced   by some menswear dummy turned messenger   of a master whose name he cannot pronounce   You feast on bargain-basement dregs   Get your self-delusions off the well-worn peg   No new hierarchy, female or male   No Santa, Elvis or Holy Grail      Shop-soiled and clueless, too indebted to inspect   what both feeds and defets you--no respect   I'm beaten, but I still reject   this world, just like a sentence   Without crime or guilt or sin   so give the panda back his skin   and give the berries back their gin--CHORUS