Because trash like you will never have
|
The means with which to live
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In any modicum of luxury
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Or vague derivative
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Of comfort don? stray beyond your class
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You?l never crack this ceiling made of glass
|
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Just live to work and then expire
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Keep your mouth shut you might retire
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With something more then debts
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Stretched far beyond your means
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Pledge allegiance
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To the corporate machines
|
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Don? you dare step out of line
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Everything will be just fine
|
But you? better mind your place
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Just learnt to be a good consumer
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You?e now a number
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You?e no longer got a face
|
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Let my anger be my declaration
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My dissent my participation
|
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Resistance isn? any use
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Just consume, obey and reproduce
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The next working class who?l shoulder
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Your burden of despair
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Your empty cries for a living wage
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Our system doesn? care we don? care
|
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That our system won? provide
|
For public health
|
We don? care that your left
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Out in the cold all by yourself
|
We don? care
|
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-----------------
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Nobody Likes A Cynic
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Good Riddance |