I know that some days it feels like a 9 to 5 deathmarch
And that's half the waking day taken away
I'm pretty sure that we imagined something more
Don't let that fire in your eyes flicker and fade
They're experts at extinguishing hope, so you better hold it and keep it sclose
It's a one-round match; you better grab it by the throat
And don't let go
I'd like to say hats off to the slash-and-burn architects,
They know exactly where despair and commerce intersect
They've sloved the equation for the gold rush, soul-crush;
Three hundred million open mouths choking on the surplus