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Suits. one, two, ten, local channel sit in front of the screen and wonder what’s local about the fabric. Even the one i voted for doesn’t seem bothered that i have absolutely noone to trust certainly not him, but here the mess begins.
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one, two, ten, local channelsit in front of the screen and wonder what’s local about the fabric
Even the one i voted for doesn’t seem botheredthat i have absolutely noone to trustcertainly not him, but here the mess begins
Cos all the elected ones are one big long despairhis comrades in the seats are no better than him
Tribe of opportunists that know no emotionsice in place of heart, water colours instead of blood
Forgotten what pain is changing skin every dayas if they were chameleonsnot one of them washes clean hands
Maybe i’m the foolwho doesn’t understand how action is less important than image
Who struggles to relax on this lid of a dynamite keg, and who tries but doesn’t manage to remember when the elected house turned into the house of chairs
Peopleyou don’t really have an excuseyou know the suits don’t give a damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chairand they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Peopleyou don’t really have an excuseyou know the suits don’t give a damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chairand they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Inside all the houses all the receivers are onand all the people watch the same channels
All these suits talk at all the same timestoo grandly, scattering promisesthat touch on all the problems of all the people
Inside all the houses with all the receivers onif there’s nothing new about it, then don’t call it the news
This circle’s got be brokenthe suits lost their right to speak ages ago
Intonation of a preacher, tone of attacklike I don’t know that you surround yourself with
1001 suck-ups and associates and advisorsmake-up artists, speech writers,
Lord Suit it’s not by chance i’m going for you-i’m the one paying all your wages
Peopleyou don’t really have an excuseyou know the suits don’t give a damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chairand they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Peopleyou don’t really have an excuseyou know the suits don’t give a damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chairand they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
The suit wants a camera the channel wants to broadcastand so only the peoplecan create a different way
A detour around the suits - it’s worth a tryit can only happen together not every man for himself
Just imagine that all of usmade the greatest effort to get out of this situation we’re stuck in
We’ll not allow them to abuse people’s savingssticking their greasy palms into budgets
Discriminating between widows and making trouble between workers to gain credit at the expense of disabled brothers
Just imagine if we took responsibility for our fate stopped letting the shits shit on us
Understood that there ain’t no difference between the minorities and us good guyslooked our enemies straight in the eye and said – we’ve had enough
Returned the suits to their proper placedeep deep inside the pages of the newspaper
Peopleyou don’t really have an excuseyou know the suits don’t give a damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chairand they know this is the countdown to the explosion.