Daddy has his "toys" still, he keeps them in good condition,
His sentimental joys or whatever he may want to "need,"
His toy car, his toy planes, his toy guns and ammunition,
And can you sense them? Millions of them, spinning at full speed,
At thousands of miles an hour, drilling to make the oil bleed,
Just to make these toys be everything we'll ever know or see.
These "handy helpers" help themselves to all of their toys,
Vaguely I feel quite amused, they've given us everything?
So to speak they've "protected us," blown up and destroyed,
These things have clothed our bodies-whether or not-it's "free,"
And every day these are our "heroes," our micro-manage "masters,"
The ones who made this world the way it is so they can all succeed.
So I ask you this, did it ever occur to anyone here this is just a game?
That I never asked for any of this, never signed up to keep on playing,
But still we're all a ****** lot to ask for less, we're all insane,
Sorry! I just can't help it, I'm not just the one for living in this craze,
I'd rather have the other world, this one of golden sun and sand,
Of warmth and freedom to explore, rather then work for my old man.