Wasteland
The View Lyrics
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Where fewer little posh boys can't believe we treasure beer cans.
Where'd you get those fans,
Found them at the shop man,
Peculiar place to find them but they're dedicated View fans.
You think it's cynical to this home a miracle,
It's not a miracle; we're just so strangely typical,
Initiate in one gang, initiations tough man,Imprisonment is on the cards,
We're heading for the quick sand.
Sign on the brew, coz there's nothing to do,
Nothing to do, but listen to you,
Not listening to you my parents told me not to,
This is the wasteland, our idealistic wasteland,
Regurgitated circle of a seven hour shop stand.
So steal a car chief, the police are off the beat thief,
They'll find it funny when they see insurance relief,
Sign on the brew, coz there's nothing to do,
Nothing to do, but I listen to you,
I'm not listening to you my parents told me not to,
Think you're a hard prick, something quite sadistic,
No you weren't sadistic when he'd done you with the brick vick,
Your land is boring, so very, very boring.
Wouldn't dream to wonder if it's raining or it's snowing.
This is the wasteland, wasteland...
The View's "Wasteland" is a commentary on the youth culture of lower-class areas in the UK. The song's title refers to the idea that these areas are devoid of any opportunities or hope for a better future. The first verse sets the scene in which the track takes place, describing a place of little value where even posh boys cannot fathom living, large quantities of beer cans are valued, and View fans are found in unusual places.
The chorus plays on the irony of the situation: young people are given little to do and so gravitate towards drinking, listening to music, and committing petty crimes. The repetition of the phrase "sign on the brew" emphasizes the lack of employment prospects available, leading to a cycle of hopelessness. The second verse continues to describe the youthful crime culture, with initiation being a tough process, culminating in imprisonment as the ultimate fate.
The song's lyrics use vivid imagery to paint a bleak picture of the wasteland that these young people inhabitants. It serves as a commentary on the effects of socioeconomic inequality and how it can lead to destructive behaviors. In the end, "Wasteland" exposes the harsh reality these youth face and sheds light on the systemic reasons why they find themselves trapped in this cycle of poverty and desperation.
Line by Line Meaning
This is the wasteland, we call this the wasteland,
We live in a place where everything is worthless, and we call it wasteland.
Where fewer little posh boys can't believe we treasure beer cans.
Posh people don't understand why we consider beer cans valuable.
Where'd you get those fans, Found them at the shop man, Peculiar place to find them but they're dedicated View fans.
Where did you get those fans? Oh, you bought them at the store? That's an unusual place to find them, but they are loyal View fans.
You think it's cynical to this home a miracle, It's not a miracle; we're just so strangely typical,
You might think it's ironic that we call this place a miracle, but it's not. It's just that the situation here is so typical and predictable.
Initiate in one gang, initiations tough man, Imprisonment is on the cards, We're heading for the quick sand.
Joining a gang is difficult, and we could end up in jail because of it. It feels like we are sinking into a quicksand of trouble.
Sign on the brew, coz there's nothing to do, Nothing to do, but listen to you, Not listening to you my parents told me not to,
We have nothing to do but drink beer and listen to your music. Even though our parents told us not to listen to you, we still do.
This is the wasteland, our idealistic wasteland, Regurgitated circle of a seven hour shop stand.
This is our wasteland, the place we idealize. It's just a repetitive and dull job at a seven-hour shop stand.
So steal a car chief, the police are off the beat thief, They'll find it funny when they see insurance relief,
Let's steal a car because there's no police around. They will be amused when they see the insurance claim.
Think you're a hard prick, something quite sadistic, No you weren't sadistic when he'd done you with the brick vick,
You think you're tough and cruel, but you weren't when someone hit you with a brick.
Your land is boring, so very, very boring. Wouldn't dream to wonder if it's raining or it's snowing.
Your place is dull, incredibly dull. You wouldn't even bother to think about the weather.
This is the wasteland, wasteland...
This is the wasteland, and we have nothing else to call it.
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: KIEREN WEBSTER, KYLE FALCONER
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind