Million Dead Bread and Circuses Lyrics:
It's time to celebrate, to come out and play –
we've been counting down the days. This weekend
we've got a band holiday! We're as sick with
expectation as we are with what we're escaping.
Lock up the house, load up the car, we've
twenty-four hours to spend in a goddamn theme
park. We are so grateful for our new state-funded
stately pleasure dome. Shock and awe and an
over-priced gift-shop – you didn't have fun if
you didn't buy the t-shirt. Paying through the
nose so you can prick-tease your animal instincts.
Art starts to imitate life in the factory; the
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factory's a prison, so art is seen to atrophy
– all our days off in front of the TV instead of
a stock screen. We just commute from one end of
the conveyor belt to the other. Oh, the kids who
would've led the unions in the past now grow up
staying silent in darkened cinemas. If every hour
that I have spent stuck in a circus was spent
learning a language, I'd have so much more to
say. And if every penny that I have spent on
processed bread was spent on growing my own food,
my skin wouldn't look so grey. Work and rest and
play safe in the knowledge that this is the only
way. The hand that feeds chooses the menu, but
I'm a fussy eater. Work rest and decay. One
commodity a day will keep subversive daydreams
away.
Lyrics: Bread and Circuses, Million Dead [end]