And I lie here

staring up at the stratosphere

and hoping we're gonna get out of here

And it seems mad

that we're born on the doorstep

of squalor and of pedistools

And I lie here

surrounded by a range of general anaesthetics

To drowse the fact that fumbling insecurity

is not matched by spreading inequalities

In the sunlight

where you caught us,

plotting the downfall of hoarders

In the sunlight where you caught us

In the sunlight

where you caught us,

plotting the downfall of hoarders

In the sunlight where you caught us

It seems that every gap in the fence

we'll peak, we'll scratch, we'll stretch, we'll grab anything we can

And if we group together

and made a bigger hope

that just for our children's hands

but for bigger plans

Yeah if we group together

and made hope

'cause I don't know about you but I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

Woah

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

I've gotta get out of here

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Woah-oh-oh-oh

We live so subserviently

accepting all normality

drenched with routine

doused in the foreseen

and yes, granted we do prosper.

But the fact that we prosper

is even taken for granted.