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Who are you going to believe?
To that man or to your own eyes?
Broken mirrors
The "tam-tam" and those who make it sound
The drums
You don't seem to understand
After all
They give you almost nothing
Baits and placebos and a cliff
Which overlooks a landfill
They make us sweat blood
In bumper cars without a steering wheel
Moralizing nonsense
Guardians of customs
Civility manuals
In their wake they leave
A generational crop
Of damaged people
Connected to your own reflection
They make us sweat blood
In bumper cars without a steering wheel
Moralizing nonsense
Guardians of customs
Civility manuals
We only have one purpose
A purpose that is
Beyond his dominions and ravings
An armored bunker
To disappear without a trace
They make us sweat blood
In bumper cars without a steering wheel
Moralizing nonsense
Guardians of customs
Civility manuals
They are not going to stop us
With a miserable loot
The things that are important
They are not within your reach
And their language they cannot understand
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