The Guardian Lyrics

The need of substance to life, is a paradox.
Debt, duty and a happy new year.

Making something of yourself is pointless
Selfish a******, produce kids and rot away to tv-dinners
f*** you, I'm doing what you're telling me
Circle jerk with a smile on my face
In the claws of a system I don't understand
Creativity is c**tivated, but I sure dealt the wrong hand
Despair x3
Become a used car salesman

I saw you coming
Dirty and empty
Eyes closed
Free and frail x2

Birth, work, death, repeat x2