THE DEADLY RHYTHM

Used up and abused, arse glued to the seat, playing with a mouse, clicking, clicking, time's ticking

Deadly rhythm, nothing inside, slave to the system, tentacles spreading far and wide

Work hard all day, a source of pride, easier to obey than ask questions, don't step out of line

Total devotion, honour in loyalty, soon you'll get a promotion, start earning big money

Every day repeats, enter, greet all the people you hate, ready to concede defeat, then get in line and wait

Go home to your abode, furnished by Ikea, TV dinner all alone, switch off your mind, repress the fear

Back to the cubicle, greeted by post-it notes and family pictures, hope hanging by a rope, the whip will fix ya

You give them you're time for a fee, think you're valued, but you're disposable just like a latex glove

Another cog in an assembly line as long the the dole queue, they don't need you, soon you'll be sleeping rough

A hard slog in the middle, putting up with a suck-hole weasel, but you're not feeble, no, you've finally had enough

Swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Singing happy songs as you wait on tool instruction time

Dancing up a storm as you count that swear jar full of dimes

You're going nowhere fast at all but you simply don't mind

Because you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Yes, you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

All the spectacles we be perceiving, dancing in a conga-line to the lies we be receiving, convicts start pleading

All the obstacles they be creating, alienation comes in many forms, check out the new sensations

Consumption is where it's at, do your bit for the economy, have another hit, be a good citizen

So many pairs to choose from, how will you decide which shoes to buy? make the transaction, feel good inside

The more you spend, the greater the rewards, you'll be in the running for the 'consumer of the year' award

Work, consume, repeat, spend, resume, pause, another shopping feat, spend up big, it's for a good cause

Wake up to Koshy, he's the expert, what's happening to all the money? What's the state of the financial market?

This is the good life, there's never a dull moment, your share prices on the rise, check out the dividends

Back to Ikea, ready to spend, on the look out for new ideas, that accessory is nice, show it to all your friends

Worked hard for your money, content to follow trends, free to spend it on anything you please, it was worth it in the end

Swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Singing happy songs as you wait on tool instruction time

Dancing up a storm as you count that swear jar full of dimes

You're going nowhere fast at all but you simply don't mind

Because you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Yes, you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

You think you're free to sell your body in exchange for security, an iPhone and a brand new giant plasma screen TV

But the Party and the company don't give a fuck about you, you're just another tool, following their rules

They are your enemy and they deal in the business of exploitation and slavery, you're not free, can't you see?

Weighed down by shackles and chains, just like your days at school, playing little games, compete with every other fool

You spin hours into nothing, ticking off all the KPIs, promotion is not forthcoming, you start to wonder why

You've devoted years to the cause, but you've been overlooked again, where's your reward? why even bother, why try?

Each workplace, it's the same, sycophants get all the breaks, they play the game right, do whatever it takes

Always on the attack, they don't care how many toes they have to tread on, they go places by stabbing their foes in the back

You never had what it takes to get ahead, not callous enough, all your hopes now dead, you're so jealous

Your boss expects you to suck his phallus, just like a harlot, you succumb again, as you edge closer to madness

Swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Singing happy songs as you wait on tool instruction time

Dancing up a storm as you count that swear jar full of dimes

You're going nowhere fast at all but you simply don't mind

Because you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line

Yes, you're swinging it to the deadly rhythm of the production line