No choice, we're forced into it Education will not get you there So easy, exploit us to Fit the convention We work for, their causes Unknown to all of us Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet Broken spine The aroma filled with grief Taste so neat Freedom under convention Painstruck, into infinity Recollect, the pieces And glue them, together We're just a small cog in a Grand machinery Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet Broken spine Put a spin on the commercial Wheel and start to steal Force fed, by society A manual to a grand failure The rules of the game must be Learn or else you will soon see That being born is not more Than accept that you're FUBAR'd Stand in line, kiss their fifty feet Broken spine The aroma filled with grief Taste so neat