Sitting out the goosestep nOf the long march of the Yes-men nAs their gold card wielding wives nAre consumed by bitterness nIt takes a lifetime to conceive nThat your days in the sun are but brief nSo they snivel, and repeat the echoes nThat buzz off every screen nNo wonder that the sociopaths nAt the top of the human thrash pile nRefer to us as cattle: we are branded, sold and fatted nWe're raised for a purpose nA drear existence on the work farm nAnd then a quiet death in the nursing-barn nYou must pay your dues, cries the humble mind nWe're distracted with excuses nWhy we can't reach for the stars nAnd so we never spring to arms nTo claim back what's being taken from us here nEvery single fucking day If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, another one cries... We're distracted with excuses nWhy we can't reach for the stars nAnd so we never spring to arms nTo reclaim what we are loosing nEvery day n