The Distance
It isn’t really what we dreamed about
It isn’t really a first world country
It isn’t really like the rest of the world
Where everyone is constantly hungry
Hurry out of here with your facisct rules
They stuff right down our throats
Simple people don’t matter, make money fast
Go home and fuck the rest
Most of us won’t be happy
Most of us will have to take the bus back home
People walking past you
Nobody knows their names
They never say hello
In and out of a bus with a meaningless number
Going back and forth
AC in the summer, sweating off anger
Dripping faces on the phones
Most of us won’t be happy
Most of us will have to take the bus back home
They’re walking past you
Nobody knows their names
They never say hello
It should have been better, simple people don’t matter