Lyrics

System, system, system - death in life System, system, system - the surgeon's knife System, system, system - hacking at the cord System, system, system - a child is born Poor little fucker, poor little kid Never asked for life, no she never did Poor little baby, poor little mite Crying out for food as her parents fight (x2) \par System, system, system - send him to school System, system, system - force him to crawl System, system, system - teach him how to cheat System, system, system - kick him off his feet Poor little schoolboy, poor little lad They'll pat him if he's good, beat him if he's bad Poor little kiddy, poor little chap They'll force feed his mind with their useless crap Force feed his mind with their useless crap System, system, system - they'll teach her how to cook System, system, system - they'll teach her how to look System, system, system - they'll teach her all the tricks System, system, system - create another victim for their greasy pricks Poor little girly, poor little wench Another little object to prod and pinch Poor little sweety, poor little filly They'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly Fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly System, system, system - he's grown to be a man System, system, system - he's been taught to fit the plan System, system, system - forty years of jobs System, system, system - pushing little buttons, pulling little knobs Poor fucking worker, poor little serf Working like a mule for half of what he's worth Poor fucking grafter, poor little gent Working for the cash that he's already spent (x2) He'll selling his life, she's his loyal wife Timid as a mouse, she's got her little house He's got his little car, they'll share the cocktail bar She likes to cook his meals, you know, something that appeals Sometimes he works 'til late, so his supper has to wait But she doesn't really mind, cos he's getting overtime He puts a bit away, just for that rainy day Cos every little counts, when the cost of living mounts Lottery each week, hoping for that lucky break They would take a trip abroad, do the things they can't afford She'd like to have a fur, he'd like a bigger car They could buy a bungalow, with furniture for show He might think of leaving work, but he wouldn't want to shirk He'd much prefer to stay, and get an honest day's pay He's got a life of work ahead, there's no rest for the dead She's tried to make it nice, he's said thank you once or twice System, system, system - deprived of any hope System, system, system - taught they couldn't cope System, system, system - slaves right from the start System, system, system - 'til death do them part Poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair Had their lives stolen, but they didn't really care Poor little darlings, just your ordinary folks Victims of the system and its cruel jokes (x2) The couple views the wreckage and dreams of home sweet home They'd almost paid their mortgage when the system dropped its bomb