This world is filthy and full of shit
Yet I've been told to stay clean
This world is dangerous and wants me dead
Though I was promised safety

When I was young I was taught my job was
To make this world a beautiful place
But what can one person do besides
Planting flowers on top of heaps of toxic waste?

A song is just a song, it won't help to turn the soil
Unless it's sung while digging

And these bards and I are still
Singing on behalf of The Revolution
Because it's something we can sell you on
Without sullying our delicate hands

[Resistance will always be sexy, that part is easy
And it's our bread and butter
In this, the golden age of circuses]

Yes this world is dangerous and wants to kill you
But you should survive anyway, live to fight another day
Because it's your job to make this a beautiful place
To spread the lie that we can be safe
A song is just a song, and it doesn't bring upheaval
Unless it's the gravedigger's hymn

A story about utopia is still just a story
Unless we write it in blood