No choice, we're forced into it
Education will not get you there
So easy, exploit us to

Fit the convention
We work for, their causes
Unknown to all of us


Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet
Broken spine

The aroma filled with grief
Taste so neat


Freedom under convention
Painstruck, into infinity
Recollect, the pieces

And glue them, together
We're just a small cog in a
Grand machinery


Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet
Broken spine

Put a spin on the commercial
Wheel and start to steal


Force fed, by society
A manual to a grand failure
The rules of the game must be

Learn or else you will soon see
That being born is not more
Than accept that you're FUBAR'd


Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet
Broken spine

The aroma filled with grief
Taste so neat