He's travelling the road that others have shown him
He's following the lies that orhers have told him
His Future's on the brink...
And nothing's ever going to sink... the ship
Grabs a working lunch, keeping one eye on the NASDAQ
Driving through the Blackwall on his way to some knock-back
There's no room in his soul
For the prople he controls... but never knows
An in his life there's an empty space
He fills with doubt and shame
Then seals it up and destroys the key
And ploughs himself right back into the winning game
She's struggling with the problems that our hero has shown her,
(A few thousands miles away, in a luxury Land Rover)
Her children in the cold
While her life is bought and sold... On tiny screens
And as her value drops, well another one is rising
More fashionable crops for the ever enterprising
The West plays betting games
On the fortunes of its slaves... but never knows
And in her heart there's an empty space.
We take more from, every day.
But we close our eyes and pay no more hees
And plough ourselves right back into the winning game
These Two halvees of the problem,
Are Joined like the sides of a coin
We see them, we feel them but do nothing
People live in the world that we drive through
It's hard to even know what they're there
We see them, we feel them but do nothing
Still treading the road our education's shown us
Still following the lies that the media has told us
We're chalking up success
While our planet's in a mess... But never know
The campaigners on TV are all just raving \"lefties\"
With pullovers so dodgy and haircuts from the seventies
So why should we take note
When we can simply cast our vote for status quo?
And in our hearts there's an empty space,
We feel its nagging pain
But we take the drugs and damp it down
And plough ourselves right back into the winning game
Life, it seems not much more,
Than a race for an un-named prize
That we accept in some tear-stained ceremony
From the people that we despise
And in our hearts we want nothing more,
Than greed and lust and pain
We buy and sell
And we crawl away
To count our ill-got gains
Writer(s): Andy Tillison
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