suits. one, two, ten, local channel sit in front of the screen and wonder whats local about the...
TRANSCRIPT
Suits
one, two, ten, local channelsit in front of the screen and
wonder what’s local about the fabric
Even the one i voted for doesn’t seem bothered
that i have absolutely noone to trust
certainly not him, but here the mess begins
Cos all the elected ones are one big long despair
his comrades in the seats are no better than him
Tribe of opportunists that know no emotions
ice in place of heart, water colours instead of blood
Forgotten what pain is changing skin every day
as if they were chameleonsnot one of them washes clean
hands
Maybe i’m the foolwho doesn’t understand how action is less important than
image
Who struggles to relax on this lid of a dynamite keg, and who
tries but doesn’t manage to remember when the elected
house turned into the house of chairs
Peopleyou don’t really have an
excuseyou know the suits don’t give a
damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chair
and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Peopleyou don’t really have an
excuseyou know the suits don’t give a
damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chair
and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Inside all the houses all the receivers are on
and all the people watch the same channels
All these suits talk at all the same times
too grandly, scattering promisesthat touch on all the problems of
all the people
Inside all the houses with all the receivers on
if there’s nothing new about it, then don’t call it the news
This circle’s got be brokenthe suits lost their right to
speak ages ago
Intonation of a preacher, tone of attack
like I don’t know that you surround yourself with
1001 suck-ups and associates and advisors
make-up artists, speech writers,
Lord Suit it’s not by chance i’m going for you-
i’m the one paying all your wages
Peopleyou don’t really have an
excuseyou know the suits don’t give a
damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chair
and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
Peopleyou don’t really have an
excuseyou know the suits don’t give a
damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chair
and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.
The suit wants a camera the channel wants to broadcast
and so only the people can create a different way
A detour around the suits - it’s worth a try
it can only happen together not every man for himself
Just imagine that all of usmade the greatest effort to get out of this situation we’re stuck
in
We’ll not allow them to abuse people’s savings
sticking their greasy palms into budgets
Discriminating between widows and making trouble between workers to gain credit at the expense of disabled brothers
Just imagine if we took responsibility for our fate stopped
letting the shits shit on us
Understood that there ain’t no difference between the
minorities and us good guyslooked our enemies straight in the eye and said – we’ve had
enough
Returned the suits to their proper place
deep deep inside the pages of the newspaper
Peopleyou don’t really have an
excuseyou know the suits don’t give a
damn
You lean on them like a broken wicker chair
and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.