| I lie here
|
| Staring up at the stratosphere
|
| And hoping we're gonna get out of here
|
| And it seems mad
|
| That we're born on the doorstep
|
| Of squalor and of pedestals
|
| And I lie here
|
| Surrounded by a range
|
| Of general anesthetics
|
| To drowse the fact that funding in 'security'
|
| Is not matched by spreading equality
|
| (You'll hear us singing...)
|
| In the sunlight where you caught us,
|
| Plotting the downfall of hoarders
|
| In the sunlight where you caught us
|
| (You'll hear us singing...)
|
| In the sunlight where you caught us,
|
| Plotting the downfall of hoarders
|
| In the sunlight where you caught us
|
| It seems that every gap in the fence
|
| We'll peak, we'll scratch, we'll stretch, we'll grab anything we can
|
| But if we grouped together
|
| And made a bigger hole
|
| Not just for our children's hands
|
| But for bigger plans
|
| Yeah if we grouped together
|
| And made a hole
|
| 'cause I don't know about you
|
| But I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| Woah
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| I've gotta get out of here
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| Woah-oh-oh-oh
|
| We live so subserviently
|
| Accepting all normality
|
| Drenched with routine
|
| Doused in the foreseen
|
| And yes, granted we do prosper.
|
| But the fact that we prosper
|
| Is even taken for granted. |