Reasons are fading away as we turn back
There'll be no fight because
What we have is nothing and
Anything will beat it out of spectacularity
Why don't we think where we belong and
We face the world's been sold?
Don't turn around
And who are we producing for to tie
Our hands with the chains of ma**- consumption?
We're still having nothing but images and prices
Categorised labels to be sold to somebody else
Why don't we think where we belong
And we face the world's been sold?
Don't turn around. Think, where do we belong?