This one's authentic, son of a gun, a soundtrack from China in the universal tongue.... The world is our oyster to plunder at will though the palate is jaded by all but the thrill of fish out of water, life in the raw... without understanding of what life's worth fighting for. Out of universal language some stuff never translates - the reports come in clusters but for words it's too late... six o'clock entertainment, tears of anguish and rage... in the zoos of the media the spirit of moment is caged. There's only one language the whole world comprehends, there's only one message as the darkness descends... do you still have a question or do you retract? There's a whole world of difference between the observer and the act. They're playing World Music in Tiananmen Square, they're playing World Music in Tiananmen Square, the whistle of bullets in the air.