Serotonin’s gone

She gave up, drifted away

Sara fled, thought process gone

She left her answering machine on

The greeting left spoken sincere

Messages no one will ever hear

Ten thousand messages a day

A million more transmissions lay

Victims of the laissez faire

Ten thousand voices, a hundred guns

A hundred decibels turns to one

One bullet, one empty head

Now with Serotonin gone

The man who used to speak

Performs a cute routine

Feel a little patronized

Don’t feel bad

They found a way inside your head

And you feel a bit misled

It’s not that they don’t care, yeah

The television’s put a thought inside your head

Like a Barry Manilow, jingle

I’d like, to teach the world to sing

In perfect harmony

A symphonic blank stare, yeah

It doesn’t make you care

Not designed to make you care

They’re betting you won’t care

Place a wager on your greed

A wager on your pride

Why try to beat them when, a million others tried?

We are the whore

Intellectually spayed

We are the queer

Dysfunctionally raised

One more pill to kill the pain

One more pill to kill the pain

One more pill to kill the pain

Living through conformity

One more prayer to keep me safe

One more prayer to keep us warm

One more prayer to keep us safe

There’s gonna be a better place

Lost the battle, lost the war

Lost the things worth living for

Lost the will to win the fight

One more pill to kill the pain

The going get tough, the tough get debt

Don’t pay attention, pay the rent

Next of kins pay for your sins

A little faith should keep us safe

Save us

The human, existence

Is failing, resistance

Essential, the future

Written off, the odds are

Astronomically against us

Only moron and genius

Would fight a losing battle

Against the super ego

When giving in is so damn comforting

And so we go, on with our lives

We know the truth, but prefer lies

Lies are simple, simple is bliss

Why go against tradition when we can

Admit defeat, live in decline

Be the victim of our own design

The status quo, built on suspect

Why would anyone stick out their neck?

Fellow members of

Club “We’ve Got Ours”

I’d like to introduce you to our host

He’s got his, and I’ve got mine

Meet the decline

We are the queer

We are the whore

Ammunition

In the class war

We are worker

We love our queen

We sacrifice

We’re soilent green

somos lo raro

somos la puta municion

en esta guerra de clases