原文歌词
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People used to burn pages, show their in and outrages
These days the gage for rage is who gets flamed on comment pages
No claim is too outrageous for these constant news updates
Lines refined to save time, less complicators to sedate us
We ingest five lines or less stories through our sub consciousness
As times go by the Internet will kill the printed press
Where's the scroll bar on these ink drenched pages? I ain't turning this
Don't believe the hype machine, death of the Journalist
Don't believe the hype machine, death of the Journalist
Good Friday, April 18th, 1930
BBC radio news showed rare maturity
The news reporter said something that these days they wouldn't say
'Good evening, There is no news today'
