It's time to celebrate, to come out and play
We've been counting down the days
This weekend we've got a bank holiday!
I'm sick with expectation as we are with what we're escaping
Lock up the house, load up the car
Twenty-four hours
To spend in the goddamn theme park
We are so grateful for our new, state funded, stately pleasure dome
We just commute from one end of
The conveyor belt to the other
Shock and awe, and an over-priced gift-shop
You didn't have fun
If you didn't buy T-Shirt
Paying through the nose, so you can prick-tease your animal instincts
Art starts to imitate life in the factory
The factory's a prison
So art is seen to atrophy
All our days off in front of the TV, instead of a stock screen
We just commute from one end of
The conveyor belt to the other
Oh, the kids who would've led the unions in the past
Now grow up staying silent in the darkened cinemas
If every hour, that I have spent stuck in a circus
Was spent learning a language
I'd have so much more to say
And if every penny, that I have spent on processed bread
Was spent on growing my own food
My skin wouldn't look so grey
Work and rest, and play safe in the knowledge
That there is no other way
The hand that feeds chooses the menu
But I'm a fussy eater
Work, rest, decay
Our commodity, a day will keep subversive daydreams away
Bread And Circuses Lyrics performed by Million Dead are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Bread And Circuses Lyrics performed by Million Dead is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD