Rant

What a sucked up fucked up working life it is 
Said the working man to his working wife and kids 
What a howl, what a torment, what a scream in the night
His wife disagreed but he probably was right 
Every minute of the day there's another thing to do 
Wash the house, paint the carpet, sell the children to the zoo
An' everything reminds you that you haven't got a clue 
Except that someone must he happy, and that someone isn't you

And you're driving home from work an' your neck is getting stiff
And all you want to do is drive the fucker off a cliff 
And you walk into a mall and you just want to scream 
"My god, have you people all forgotten how to dream!"
'Cause they're buying all the tickets and they're watching all the games 
And they purchase all the products, they can tell you all their names
And they want to purchase everything their little hands can hold
But they never seem to notice that it's them that's bought and sold

Ah smash it all, smash it all, there's never any play
Just endless fucking rubbish always getting in the way
What does it matter it the telly's on the blink
If there's piles of dirty dishes sitting smelly in the sink
If you vote, it you don't vote, it you do as you're told
If you work till you're stupid and then suddenly you're old
And people all around you are lust lapping up the shit
Saying, "Please sir may I have one more little bit?"

But were all being sensible, we re doing what we can 
You gotta think about the future, son, you gotta have a plan
You don't want to be a burden on your kids when you're old
Or a pile of smelly rags lying bundled in the cold 
You better go hack to that college, get a shiny new degree
You say you didn't go to college 'cause you couldn't pay the fee?
Well you better get some money and you better get a lot
'Cause you're never gonna make it on the chump change that you got!
Still you re screaming at her, and she's screaming at you
And there's so much screaming, you don't know what to do

What does it matter it the telly's on the blink
If there's piles of dirty dishes sitting smelly in the sink
If you vote, it you don't vote, it you do as you're told
If you work till you're stupid and then suddenly you're old

But were all being sensible, we re doing what we can 
You gotta think about the future, son, you gotta have a plan
You don't want to be a burden on your kids when you're old
Or a pile of smelly rags lying bundled in the cold 

Still you re screaming at her, and she's screaming at you
And there's so much screaming, you don't know what to do