Oh oh oh Oh oh oh Oh oh oh An- oth- er sub- ur- ban fam' ly mor- ning Grand mo- ther screa ming at the wall We have to shout a- bove the din of our rice cris- pies We can't hear an- y- thing at all Mo- ther chants her lit a- ny of bore- dom and frus- tra- tion But we know all her sui- i- cides are fake Dad- dy on- ly stares in- to the dis- tance There's on- ly so much more taht he can take Ma- ny milles a- way some thing crawls from the slime At the bot- tom of a dark Scot- tish lake An- o- ther in- dus- trial ug- ly mor- ning the fac' try belch- es filth in- to the sky He walks un- hind- ered through the pick- et lines to- day He does' nt think to won- der why The se- cre- ta- ries pout and preen like cheap tarts on a red light street But all he ev- er think to do is watch And ev- ery sin- gle meet- ing with his so- called su- pe- i- or Is a hu- mi- li- a- ting kick in the crotch Ma- ny milles a- way some thing crawls to the sur- face Of a dark Scot- tish lake An- o- ther work- ing day has end- ed On- ly the rush hour hell to face Pack- ed like lem- mings in- to shin- y me- tal box- es Con- tes- tants in a su- i- cid- al race Dad- dy grips the wheel and stares a- lone In- to the dis- tance He knows that some- thing some- where has to brake He sees the fam' ly home now Loom ing in his head The pain up- stairs that makes his eyes balls ache Ma- ny milles a- way there's a sha- dow on the door Of a cot- tage on the shore Of a dark Scot- tish La- ke Ma- ny liees a- way Ma- ny liees a- way Ma- ny liees a- way Ma- ny liees a- way