Used to think there'd come a day
When all the problems would disappear
Working at a dead end job saving up to fly away
Drunken weekends, forgotten names
The faces start to look the same
Got no reason just got time
Slipping tripping down the line

Sad but true, this could be you
Why don't we try to do more than get by

Sit at home and contemplate
TV, music, sex and drinking
Little choice and little cares
To be a famous millionaire
No sense, no motivation
Battered souls of smashed emotions
Get that money, drive that car
Anyone can be a star

Every day in every way
We plan, we scam, we damn the forces
A thousand plans to anticipate
More excuses to procrastinate
Faith, hope, belief mean nothing
Thinking is not condoned
Consume work and obey
Your future is assured as empty