Systematic Death
System, system, system - death in life
System, system, system - the surgeons knife
System, system, system - hacking at the cord
System, system, system - a child is born
Poor little fucker, poor little kid
Never asked for life, no she never did
Poor little baby, poor little mite
Crying out for food as her parents fight
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System, system, system - send him to school
System, system, system - force him to crawl
System, system
System - teach him how to cheat
System, system
System - kick him off his feet
Poor little schoolboy, poor little lad
They'll pat him if he's good
Beat him if he's bad
Poor little kiddy, poor little chap
They'll force feed his mind
With their useless crap
Force feed his mind with their useless crap
System, system
System - they'll teach her how to cook
System, system
System - they'll teach her how to look
System, system
System - they'll teach her all the tricks
System, system
System - create another victim
For their greasy pricks
Poor little girly, poor little wench
Another little object to prod and pinch
Poor little sweety, poor little filly
They'll fuck her mind so they
Can fuck her silly
Fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly
System, system
System - he's grown to be a man
System, system
System - he's been taught to fit the plan
System, system, system - forty years of jobs
System, system, system -
Pushing little buttons, pulling little knobs
Poor fucking worker, poor little serf
Working like a mule for half
Of what he's worth
Poor fucking grafter, poor little gent
Working for the cash that he's already spent
He'll selling his life, she's his loyal wife
Timid as a mouse, she's got her little house
He's got his little car
They'll share the cocktail bar
She likes to cook his meals, you know
Something that appeals
Sometimes he works til late
So his supper has to wait
But she doesn't really mind
Cos he's getting overtime
He puts a bit away, just for that rainy day
Cos every little counts
When the cost of living mounts
Lottery each week
Hoping for that lucky break
They would take a trip abroad
Do the things they can't afford
She'd like to have a fur
He'd like a bigger car
They could buy a bungalow
With furniture for show
He might think of leaving work
But he wouldn't want to shirk
He'd much prefer to stay
And get an honest days pay
He's got a life of work ahead
There's no rest for the dead
She's tried to make it nice
He's said thank you once or twice
System, system, system - deprived of any hope
System, system
System - taught they couldn't cope
System, system
System - slaves right from the start
System, system
System - til death do them part
Poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair
Had their lives stolen
But they didn't really care
Poor little darlings
Just your ordinary folks
Victims of the system and it's cruel jokes
The couple views the wreckage and
Dreams of home sweet home
They'd almost paid their mortgage when
The system dropped it's bomb