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• Artiste: Squirtgun
• Titre: Social
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A skeleton in a suit and tie Tells us what we ought to buy A bag of coke and a nuclear heart Support your conscience that's a start If you win the game, some have to lose The fun part is that you can't choose You're born into your social class You're stuck there and it's hard to pass Their social norms and social rules We're social scum, they're social tools They tell us all their social lies Ignoring all our social cries We lose the game before we start They watch us dance, we fall apart Let's be ourselves and never be social We'll play their games but never be social Ken and Barb in Greek fatigues Tell us what we ought to be The care to drive what to drink Ignorant bliss, no need to think As Barb cakes fetus on her face Ken sucks blood at his workplace They take from you, they take from me Society's anomalies