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Blackout Problems
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The protest rests between the graves,
The happy songs, the sad, sad slaves,
5 to 9 or 9 to 5,
The danger of the safe, safe life.
I'm sick of the routine,
We work to exist, we exist for the working,
Stuck in our daydreams,
The question remains what the fuck are we doing here?
Free as the sea, heavy as the shore,
We all have enough but always want more,
The shit that I own makes me someone I'm not,
Give me a second to give up all that I've got.
Take me back home,
The protest is over,
Take me back home,
The cameras remain,
Deep inside our daily trot,
We love the things we're so sick of,
We barely talk, we barely speak,
We're old enough, accept the defeat,
I will not believe,
That I'm half as content as the smile on my face seems,
Stuck in my daydreams,
The question remains what the fuck am I doing here?
Free as the sea, heavy as the shore,
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We all have enough but always want more,
The shit that I own makes me someone I'm not,
Give me a second to give up all that I've got.
Take me back home,
The protest is over,
Take me back home,
The cameras remain,
Take me back home,
We sell our freedom day by day
Take me back home,
Our dreams are imprisoned; we're numbered by names
Free as the sea, heavy as the shore,
We all have enough but always want more,
The shit that I own makes me someone I'm not,
Give me a second to give up all that I've got.
Take me back home,
The protest is over,
Take me back home,
The cameras remain,
Take me back home,
We sell our freedom day by day
Take me back home,
Our dreams are imprisoned; we're numbered by names
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