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.