Eat More Cake - Music Box | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Eat More Cake
• Music Box

Aged eighteen you used to daydream,
steer clear of the mainstream,
however loud they'd scream.
Told yourself you’d never do what they do, always remain true,
thought you’d change the world,
but the world changed you.
And you didn’t even notice it happening,
but here you are,
legs spread,
coated in Vaseline.
Man, I’m not surprised you’re sore,
you’re nothing more than a corporate whore, I wonder how much they bought you for? Climb the ladder,
live the dream,
get a job and a routine,
be a cog in a machine,
at last your heart’s grown
as mean and cold as the shareholders',
you sold us out, and for what?
Are you having fun?
I’m just getting fucked
cos I can’t think of anything better
to spend my money on.
We’ve come a long way
haven’t we?
Oh apparently so,
look at all the clever things we’ve done,
but what’s the point?
Seems to me
we’re just making shit
for the sake of it,
supply and demand you buy,
head hurts from all the adverts you can’t escape,
however hard you try,
but so what?
Just as long as you earn more,
you don’t give a fuck what you do,
who you work for,
or what you produce.
Well whatever helps you sleep at night,
but God’s honest truth,
“I’m just doing my job” is not an excuse.
So don’t you dare tell me to grow up,
I know what you mean,
you mean give up,
let go of your dream.
Well
fuck you
and the guns you never stuck to,
thanks for helping make a world with no one left to look up to.
Go ahead
give your life to making the rich richer,
pay attention to the details,
forget about the big picture,
but brace yourself one day it’s gonna hit you, you can’t take your money with you.

And on that day,
the music box will open
and this is what will play.

It’s embarrassing,
but this is what happens
when you murder heroes
and idolise average men.
Strange,
I though we were taught to be honest,
now for some reason we talk complete bollocks.
You told yourself
you were gonna make every second count, check it out,
not exactly keeping your promise.
Eat,
sleep,
watch TV,
go to the pub
and spend 35 hours a week in the office.
And your job is so amazingly dull
that your brain has melted
and escaped from your skull.
I see that vacant look on your face,
well a culture based on war
and waste can be an awfully boring place. But a flickering screen is all it takes,
ooh,
a celebrity falls from grace,
wow,
a sitcom that ain’t funny,
oh I forgot,
the aim is not to entertain
it’s to make money.
I’d like to make a toast
to becoming the thing you hate the most, cheers,
here’s to being bitter and twisted,
to constantly taking the piss
and making jokes,
to never doing what you want to do
cos you’re scared of other people
making fun of you,
to blatantly wasting your time,
to knowing people starve every day
and pretending
that everything’s basically fine.
“Yeah, but it’s not my fault,”
I hear you crying,
“perpetuating a system you didn’t design
isn’t a crime,”
no,
but in a system that’s all about profit,
there will always be war
if it lines someone’s pocket.
And while you’re doing nothing to stop it, you’re actually giving your endorsement,
so what you do is important.
One day you’re gonna realise
you can’t just ignore it,
cos if you don’t oppose it,
you support it.

And on that day,
the music box will open
and this is what will play.

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