Where's my big like?
I've been pouring all over this shtick every night
And I'm calling out your theories of why
Not to catastrophise

But I've been lying so low, Mum, I can't see the light
My god, these guys, vipers in the night

Still amidst all the hissing
I'm remembering kissing the angel with the incredible piercing
While you're on brand names and acquisitions
Feckless sex dreams with cowards' omissions

The future is a factory
And I foresee it hating me
The brutalist industry I've seen
Not my scene

Wherе's my limelight?
If I'm to nurse the fеver I carry inside
I'll starve, I will not stifle my appetite

It's nigh-on high time
I can barely make out the mountain no-one taught me to climb
And frightened allies take swipes at my sides
Now everyone's weighing in on the lady in waiting
'bout how long it's all taking, as she sits for the painting
As soon as it dries it starts depreciating
More useful derision from the youth politician

The future is a factory
And I foresee it hating me
The brutalist industry I've seen
It's not really
It's really not my scene
Really not my scene

The future is a factory
And I foresee it hating me
The brutalist industry I've seen
Can't they see
It's not my scene