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.

Send him to get school.
Force him to crawl.
Teach him how to cheat.
Kick him off his feet.
Poor little schoolboy , poor little lad,
They'll pat him if he is good, beat him if he is bad.
Poor little kiddy, poor little chap,
They'll forvce feed his mind with their useless crap.

They'll teach her how to cook.
Teach her how to look.
Tey'll teach her all the tricks,
Create another victim for their greasy pricks.
Poor little girly, poor little wench,
Another object to prod and pinch.
Poor little sweety, poor little filly,
They'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly.

He's grown to be a man.
He's been taught to fit the plan.
Forty years of jobs.
Pushing butooms, pulling knobs.
Poor fucking worker, poor little serf,
Working like a mule for half of what he's worth.
Poor fucking grafter, poor little gent,
Working for the cash that he's already spent.

He's selling his life, she's his royal wife,
Timid as a mouse. She's got her little house,
He's got his little car and they share the cocktail bar.
She likes to cook his meals, you know, something that appeals.
Sometimes he works til late so his supper has to wait,
But she doesn't really mind cos he's getting overtime.
He likes to put a bit away for that rainy day,
Cos every little counts as the cost of living mounts.
They do the pools each week hoping for that lucky break.
Then they'd take a trip abroad, do all the things they can't afford.
She'd really like to have a fur, he'd like a bigger car.
They could buy a bungalow, with a Georgian door for show.
He might think of leaving work, but no, he wouldn't like to shirk.
He'd much prefer to stay and get his honest days pay.
He's got a life of work ahead, there's no rest for the dead.
She's tried to make it nice, he's said thank you once or twice.

Deprived of any hope.
Taught they couldn't cope.
Slaves right from the start.
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.
The couple views the wreckage and dreams of home sweet home,
They'd almost paid the mortgage, then the system dropped its bomb.

Lyrics submitted by krushzed

Systematic Death song meanings
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    General CommentHow has nobody commented on this song yet? It's about how everybody is expected to fit certain roles in society, and how nobody questions the system, instead spending their entire lives obeying it. On the side, it criticizes expected gender roles. The two lyrics I emphasize with the most are "they'll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly" (completely proto-riot grrrl) and "poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair, they had their lives stolen, but they didn't care."
    JohnnyLurgon May 06, 2011   Link

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