| And so the artist screams into an empty cup
|
| He says that you’re a soulless bunch, but you could still wake up!
|
| And the capitalist says he’s born to be free
|
| He says, «You're poor, my friends. |
| But you don’t have to be!»
|
| Here’s what we know
|
| We don’t know what we got or if we got it
|
| And what we had, we already forgot it
|
| The race is evidently to the bottom
|
| We don’t, we don’t, we don’t know what to say
|
| I don’t know what to say
|
| And so the thumpers preach both love and hate
|
| They say, «You're naughty filth, but you could still be saved!»
|
| And the people wait for the bell to ring
|
| They say, «We need a song. |
| We need a song to sing!»
|
| Here’s what we know
|
| We don’t know what we got or if we got it
|
| And what we had, we already forgot it
|
| The race is evidently to the bottom
|
| We don’t, we don’t, we don’t know what to say!
|
| Don’t know what it was but we want it back
|
| Like every generation will repeat the last
|
| Put a halo on a figurehead or photograph
|
| Resist a little bit, and then become The Man
|
| Dreaming of a simpler time, it occurs to me
|
| That the past is hypothetical fantasy
|
| And nostalgia just ain’t what it used to be…
|
| Here’s what we know
|
| We don’t know what we got or if we got it
|
| And what we had, we already forgot it
|
| The race is evidently to the bottom
|
| We don’t, we don’t, we don’t know what to say
|
| I don’t know what to say
|
| I don’t know what to say |