Systemic Death

System, system, system Death in life System, system, system The surgeons knife System, system, system Hacking at the cord System, system, system A child is born Poor little fucker, poor little kid Never asked for life, no she never did Poor little baby, poor little mite Crying out for food as her parents fight Crying out for food as her parents fight System, system, system Send him to school System, system, system Force him to crawl System, system, system Teach him how to cheat System, system, system Kick him off his feet Poor little schoolboy, poor little lad They'll pat him if he's good and they'll beat him if he's bad Poor little kiddy, poor little chap They'll force feed his mind with their useless crap They'll force feed his mind with their useless crap System, system, system They'll teach her how to cook System, system, system Teach her how to look System, system, system They'll teach her all the tricks System, system, system Create another victim for their greasy pricks Poor little girly, poor little wench Another little object to prod and pinch Poor little sweety, poor little filly They'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly They'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly System, system, system He's grown to be a man System, system, system Taugh to fit the plan System, system, system Forty years of jobs System, system, system Pushing little buttons, pulling little knobs Poor fucking worker, poor little serf Working like a mule for half of what he's worth Poor fucking grafter, poor little gent Working for the cash that he's already spent Working for the cash that he's already spent He's selling his life She's his loyal wife Timid as a mouse She's got her litlle house He's got his little car And they share the cocktail bar She likes to cook his meals You know, something that appeals Sometimes he works til late So his supper has to wait But she doesn't really mind Cos he's getting overtime He likes to put a bit away Just for that rainy day Cos every little counts As the cost of living mounts They do the pools each week Hoping for that lucky break Then they'd take a trip abroad Do all the things they can't afford She'd really like to have a fur He's like a bigger car They could buy a bungalow With a Georgian door for show He might think of leaving work But no, he wouldn't like a shirk He'd much prefer to stay And get his honest days pay He's got a life of work ahead There's no rest for the dead She's tried to make it nice He's said thankyou once or twice System, system, system Deprived of any hope System, system, system Taught they couldn't cope System, system, system Slaves right from the start System, system, system Til death do them part Poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair Had their lives stolen, but they didn't really care Poor little darlings, just your ordinary folks Victims of the system and its cruel jokes Victims of the system and its cruel jokes The couple views the wreckage And dreams of home sweet home They'd almost paid the mortgage Then the system dropped it's bomb