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The Edge Of Town - The Suicide File
The cul-de-sac jungle is a cruel place
It's a living rotting failure from a different age
And if you're looking for the place
That dreams go to die
It's not in the city it's around the outside
You can mortgage your future for sub-leached purity
And accept the sterility in exchange for security
But no matter how many times
You run from your fears
The same problems always re-appear
Day after day it's all just decay
And the promised land just gets further away
Day after day it's all just decay
And the promised land just gets further away
And the promised land just gets further away
On these dead lawns lie your father's dreams
White flight white blight white screams
On these dead lawns
Lie your mother's dreams
White flight white blight white screams
Day after day it's all just decay
And the promised land just gets further away
Day after day it's all just decay
And the promised land just gets further away
