The Tourists

The Tourists

When the whole world

Is going wrong

It’s not a place

Where I belong

My body reels

To take the blow

An uppercut

Comes from below

When the whole world

Just makes no sense

It’s not a good

Experience

But if I blew

The world away

I’d have no other

Place to stay

So come with me, come take my hand

Together we can understand

When spaceships streak across the sky

They don’t pause to say goodbye

I shoot a glance

Across the bay

Folks on a yacht

Have come to play

The morning sun

Makes them look nice

And makes the bay

A paradise

... of innocence and ignorance

Ringed now by a fence

And streets here where we used to play

Are just another place to stay

A million blows

How I’ve been hit

Yet I still stand

And won’t submit

I want it all

But want you too

The world is old

And torn in two

So come with me, come with me now

We’ll figure all this out somehow

We’ll make them pause and compromise

We’ll catch them by surprise

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guitar - synth - pop

with a driving rhythm rising and falling to match the pattern and intensity of the lyrics