System, system, system - death in life
System, system, system - the surgeons knife
System, system, system - hacking at the cord
System, system, system - a child is born

Poor little fucker, poor little kid
Never asked for life, no she never did
Poor little baby, poor little mite
Crying out for food as her parents fight (x2)

System, system, system - send him to school
System, system, system - force him to crawl
System, system, system - teach him how to cheat
System, system, system - kick him off his feet

Poor little schoolboy, poor little lad
They'll pat him if he's good and they'll beat him if he's bad
Poor little kid, poor little chap
They'll force feed his mind with their useless crap
Force feed his mind with their useless crap

System, system, system - they'll teach her how to cook
System, system, system - they'll teach her how to look
System, system, system - they'll teach her all the tricks
System, system, system - create another victim for their greasy pricks

Poor little girly, poor little wench
Another little object to prod and pinch
Poor little sweetie, poor little filly
They'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly
Fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly

System, system, system - he's grown to be a man
System, system, system - He's been taught to fit the plan
System, system, system - forty years of jobs
System, system, system - Pushing little buttons, pulling little knobs

Poor little worker, poor little serf
Working like a mule for half of what he's worth
Poor little grafter, poor little gent
Working for the cash that he's already spent (x2)

He'll selling his life
She's his loyal wife
Timid as a mouse
She's got her little house
He's got his little car
They'll share the cocktail bar
She likes to cook his meals
You know, something that appeals
Sometimes he works late
So supper has to wait
But she doesn't really mind
Cos he's getting overtime
He puts a bit away
Just for that rainy day
Cos every little counts
When the cost of living mounts
Lottery each week
Hoping for that lucky break
They would take a trip abroad
Do the things they can't afford
She'd like to have a fur
He'd like a bigger car
They could buy a bungalow
With furniture for show
He might think of leaving work
But he wouldn't like to shirk
He would much prefer to stay
And get an honest day's pay
He's got a life of work ahead
There's no rest for the dead
She's tried to make it nice
He said 'thank you' once or twice

System, system, system - deprived of any hope
System, system, system - taught they couldn't cope
System, system, system - slaves right from the start
System, system, system - til death do them part

Poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair
Had their lives stolen, but they didn't really care
Poor little darlings, just your ordinary folks
Victims of the system and its cruel jokes (x2)

The couple views the wreckage and dreams of home sweet home
They'd almost paid their mortgage when the system dropped its bomb

Lyrics submitted by nitroglycol

Systematic Death song meanings
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