Did you ever stop to wonder,
As you turned into a number,
If they ever had your best interests at heart?
Or were you just being harvested for parts?
Like some lunatic,
Working yourself sick,
For some glass and bricks,
Some life.
They dangle out the carrot,
And exaggerate the merits,
Of chasing hollow dreams filled with receipts,
And your training keeps you craving the deceit,
Like some lunatic,
Working yourself sick,
For some glass and bricks,
Some life.
That's some life you're living there, on a treadwheel to nowhere,
Nowhere fast.
You could have been a clever lad, had you had it with being had,
Had your chance.
For your financial scheming,
And materialistic dreaming,
You got nothing but a credit bill to show,
And a weekend with your office work in tow,
Like some lunatic,
Working yourself sick,
For some glass and bricks,
Some life.
That's some life you're living there, on a treadwheel to nowhere,
Nowhere fast.
You could have been a clever lad, had you had it with being had,
Had your chance.
It seems the sole conclusion,
Is that you've been in collusion,
Unknowingly as they pull on your strings,
And you line up Boxing Day for useless things,
Like some lunatic,
Working yourself sick,
For some glass and bricks,
Some life,
Some life,
Some life.
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