Wake up in the morning
Like a living dead
Sucking all their madness
Flowing in my head
Twisted gods beneath the clouds
Promising the key
Sale tickets for a land
I will never see

Sometimes I burn like a dot in the sun

I can hear their laughter
Loud in my ears
Counting their money
Growing up my fears
Playgrounds made of concrete
Children eating clay
The words have no meaning
If you want to stay

I don’t want to swim alone
On a river made of milk and honey
I don’t want to be a part
Of this fucking brotherhood of money