An Idea Appears

“I don't have to tell you things are bad Everybody knows things are bad It's a depression Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job The dollar buys a nickel's worth Banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter Punks are running wild in the street And there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do And there's no end to it We know things are bad — worse than bad They're crazy It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller And all we say is: 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms'”