Father mowsthe lawn and mother peels the potatoes   Grandma lays the table alone   And adjusts a photograph of the unknown soldier   In this holy of holies, the home   And from the tv an unwatched voice   Suggests the answer is to plant more trees   The scrawl on the wall says what about the workers   And the voice of the people says more salt please      Mother shakesher head and reads aloud from the newspaper   As father puts another lock on the door   And reflects upon the violent times that we are living in   While chatting with the wife beater next door   If paradise to you is cheap beer and overtime   Home truths are easily missed   Something that every football fan knows   It only takes five fingers to form a fist      And whenit rains here it rains so hard   But never hard enough to wash away the sorrow   I'll trade my love today for a greater love tomorrow   The lonely child looks out and dreams of independence   From this family life sentence      Mother seesbut does not read the peeling posters   And can't believe that there's a world to be won   But in the public schools and in the public houses   The battle of britain goes on   The constantpromise of jam tomorrow   Is the new breed's litany and verse   If it takes another war to fill the churches of england   Then the world the meek inherit, what will it be worth      Mother fightsthe tears and father, his sense of outrage   And attempts to justify the sacrifice   To pass their creed down to another generation   'anything for the quiet life'   In the land of a thousand doses   Where nostalgia is the opium of the age   Our place in history is as   Clock watchers, old timers, window shoppers.