What a fucking set up,
What a real mess,
I can't make sense of it,
It doesn't make sense
Raised from your cradle,
Teethed on possession,
Reared you upon T.V. capitalism,
Spewed out of school, get a nice job,
Get turned on when you're on top.
Worry about profit margins
Don't give a fuck about human beings
Filed away in your cabinet are equal
people
But they forget it, they make it.
So that you have to survive by
producing crap.
Can you call that life? With the very
same crap.
You have to buy back displayed on the
supermarket shelf,
Over a thousand varieties to damage
your health.
Inside the factory are wages for
slavery,
And every product at the end of the
And every shit flushed away in your
private bog,
Is a product of another persons slog.
There maybe a little in front of your
But everybodys shit still smells the
Capitalism is Cannibalism

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