Lyrics to Men In Robes
(Verse)
Someone told us we're happy there's no fear
Freedom disappeared long ago.
I don't have fun to breathe, my family wants to leave,
But there's no place to go, I suppose.
I know the men in robes don't like to get too close,
It's the symptom of their wild insanity.
If you multiply desire, keep the figures climbing higher
You'll need to twist the truth, eventually.
And facing itself out of pay has a logic
It brains to the streets, formally, loyal subjects torching high.
We live under a cloak of secrets, stay devoked,
To tell or ask me, you disappear.
At school I learn by roped how the asterite devoked
They said no one used it, anyway.
Oh, I never need to tell
Fools men in robes just have themselves
They just have themselves.
My civil service friends,
Say the government just passed,
Whoever served a man through decreet.
In the corridors of power we're all judged by the hour
It's business, no hard feelings, you're to get it.
And form of commend takes a question of policy
Wheels turn around in the head, no philosophy at all.
If you were them, would you land near some sympathy,
Turn into shrug, decide into harmony in sense.
Someone told us we're happy there's no fear
Freedom disappeared long ago.
I don't have fun to breathe, my family wants to leave,
But there's no place to go, I suppose.
I know the men in robes don't like to get too close,
It's the symptom of their wild insanity.
If you multiply desire, keep the figures climbing higher
You'll need to twist the truth, eventually.
And facing itself out of pay has a logic
It brains to the streets, formally, loyal subjects torching high.
We live under a cloak of secrets, stay devoked,
To tell or ask me, you disappear.
At school I learn by roped how the asterite devoked
They said no one used it, anyway.
Oh, I never need to tell
Fools men in robes just have themselves
They just have themselves.
My civil service friends,
Say the government just passed,
Whoever served a man through decreet.
In the corridors of power we're all judged by the hour
It's business, no hard feelings, you're to get it.
And form of commend takes a question of policy
Wheels turn around in the head, no philosophy at all.
If you were them, would you land near some sympathy,
Turn into shrug, decide into harmony in sense.
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