Chumbawamba ft. Wire’s Reuters (1977) Lyrics

Our own correspondent is sorry to tell of an uneasy time, that all is not well. On the borders there’s movement. In the hills there’s trouble, food is short, crime is double. Prices have risen since the government fell, casualties increase as the enemy shell. The climate’s unhealthy, flies and rats thrive, and sooner or later the end will arrive. This is your war correspondent running out of tape, gunfire increasing, looting, burning, rape.