text: Theres a television
  Theres a television
  Speaking to me
  Theres a French girl
  On my television
  Shes crying in the palm of my hand
  Were moving mental
  I read the paper, or just the photos
  I rip one out in my hand
  Theres a massacre, across the ocean
  I can see it in the palm of my hands
  But on the ground floor
  Im losing signal, we lost connection
  I left her crying, she was still crying
  Now shes lying in my head
  Public off the rail, shrapnel flying
  Extra-explosives
  For a riot, to the end
  What am I good for?
  I cannot see no-one
  Im violent, to the voice in my head
  I dont want this planet
  I phone my ex x