Suits

one, two, ten, local channelsit in front of the screen and

wonder what’s local about the fabric

Even the one i voted for doesn’t seem bothered

that i have absolutely noone to trust

certainly not him, but here the mess begins

Cos all the elected ones are one big long despair

his comrades in the seats are no better than him

Tribe of opportunists that know no emotions

ice in place of heart, water colours instead of blood

Forgotten what pain is changing skin every day

as if they were chameleonsnot one of them washes clean

hands

Maybe i’m the foolwho doesn’t understand how action is less important than

image

Who struggles to relax on this lid of a dynamite keg, and who

tries but doesn’t manage to remember when the elected

house turned into the house of chairs

Peopleyou don’t really have an

excuseyou know the suits don’t give a

damn

You lean on them like a broken wicker chair

and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.

Peopleyou don’t really have an

excuseyou know the suits don’t give a

damn

You lean on them like a broken wicker chair

and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.

Inside all the houses all the receivers are on

and all the people watch the same channels

All these suits talk at all the same times

too grandly, scattering promisesthat touch on all the problems of

all the people

Inside all the houses with all the receivers on

if there’s nothing new about it, then don’t call it the news

This circle’s got be brokenthe suits lost their right to

speak ages ago

Intonation of a preacher, tone of attack

like I don’t know that you surround yourself with

1001 suck-ups and associates and advisors

make-up artists, speech writers,

Lord Suit it’s not by chance i’m going for you-

i’m the one paying all your wages

Peopleyou don’t really have an

excuseyou know the suits don’t give a

damn

You lean on them like a broken wicker chair

and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.

Peopleyou don’t really have an

excuseyou know the suits don’t give a

damn

You lean on them like a broken wicker chair

and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.

The suit wants a camera the channel wants to broadcast

and so only the people can create a different way

A detour around the suits - it’s worth a try

it can only happen together not every man for himself

Just imagine that all of usmade the greatest effort to get out of this situation we’re stuck

in

We’ll not allow them to abuse people’s savings

sticking their greasy palms into budgets

Discriminating between widows and making trouble between workers to gain credit at the expense of disabled brothers

Just imagine if we took responsibility for our fate stopped

letting the shits shit on us

Understood that there ain’t no difference between the

minorities and us good guyslooked our enemies straight in the eye and said – we’ve had

enough

Returned the suits to their proper place

deep deep inside the pages of the newspaper

Peopleyou don’t really have an

excuseyou know the suits don’t give a

damn

You lean on them like a broken wicker chair

and they know this is the countdown to the explosion.