The Hum Of The Cable (1981 electric original)

When they come in the night with their lamps burning bright
To bear all the Gypsies away
The cries burrow deep to the depths of my sleep
Of the roots being wrenched from the clay
However much I care, it's cold out there
And in the darkness I turn away

When they cross all the fields with the sun on their shields
The Baptists are easy to find
At the point of a gun they force them to run
And they leave not a one left behind
But the sun is bright, and at its height
And in its lightness I am blind

When they scour the lanes and find the remains
Of the writers who peddle ideas
With little to seize, the presses can squeeze
The word, and the word disappears
But I cannot decipher what
Is but a blot, my dears

Out late on the street I hear on its beat
The growl of a Doberman dog
The red of its eyes destroys my disguise
As slowly it searches the smog
But with a howl, it finds its prey
As the blind and the sleepy all turn away
And they cast adrift this useless cog
As the hum of the cable comes down through the fog