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