i am a product i am a product of the 20th century i is the mafia the swing that s in your gate the dirty washing hanging on your line like a pretty flower never feed me at all like a pretty flower never feed me i is life i is death with her four winds blowing will i see you again i am i see you now it s all over i m seeing through all the plastic sunrise come every morning i live in siberia through no fault of my own we re a blank generation in the danger zone paracidal slumbers from 7 23 only the blind follow me abyssinia in the morning breakfast in berlin oh you leave me dying everybody wants what everybody s got and everybody s got what everybody wants soldier lies bleeding where a church once stood 