The Distance

It isn’t really what we dreamed about
It isn’t really a first world country
It isn’t really like the rest of the world
Where everyone is constantly hungry

Hurry out of here with your facisct rules
They stuff right down our throats
Simple people don’t matter, make money fast
Go home and fuck the rest

Most of us won’t be happy
Most of us will have to take the bus back home
People walking past you
Nobody knows their names
They never say hello

In and out of a bus with a meaningless number
Going back and forth
AC in the summer, sweating off anger
Dripping faces on the phones

Most of us won’t be happy
Most of us will have to take the bus back home
They’re walking past you
Nobody knows their names
They never say hello

It should have been better, simple people don’t matter