So the good days are over they’re all gone
While away your life, working all day long
Nine to five and you think you’re doing well
What about the future, well, who can tell?

Pay slips arrived and Friday’s here
Down the pub for another sixteen beers
Don’t it look great, this lovely world of ours
They make it look like a rosy bed of flowers

They’ve blinded you well, making them look good
Suppressing your mind, you always said they would
Changed your opinion and altered your face
You fit in their plans cos it suits your taste

So who knows what’s the reason
Why nobody wants to change?

Don’t know what you want, but you want it now
Talk to your friends cos they’ll show you how
It’ll look great, this lovely world of ours
They’ll make it look like a rosey bed of flowers