Walking Dead On Broadway - Our Labour, Our Idol, Our Pride
текст песни

We are the slaves to an idol
So age old as it is malign
Its a rat race daily

We would break our spines for our pride
For any minute of rest we feel disdained and contrite

We are slaves to an idol
Trapped in a spell of self-disdain
We're still asking for a hand that feeds us
To have reason for serving it in return
We don't want freedom
We work hard for our self-esteem
We don't want release but universalise our suffering

A broken back is the medal of honour and of acclaim in this world
Rewarded for self-indignation we learned to punish dignity Dehumanisation is the key to our concept of humanity

We're afraid to breathe because we are so used to lack of air We're afraid of any common idea
'cause we feel so safe in feeding off the madness of the others

Self-exploitation is the virtue of the wealth of nations
But what could be the wealth of the exploited women and men?
Labour is the answer but what was the question?
It's a rat-race daily

We are the slaves to an idol
So age old as it is malign

Inhuman in it's works but all too human by design
We're afraid to breathe because we are so used to lack of air We're afraid of the loss of power
When we lose the curse to which we are heir
A broken back is the devoutest prayer
And being wrecked down the virtue of faith

A broken back is the devoutest prayer
Being wrecked down is the virtue of faith
Rewarded for self-indignation we learned to punish dignity Dehumanisation is the key to our concept of humanity

The weak are just lacking our own will to suffer
We cast the outcasts ever out again
Labour is the answer then but what the hell was the question?

We don't want freedom
Since we work so hard for building this prison
We're afraid to breathe
We're afraid to be free