Letra de Internal Exile
An idle glance absorbs the terror The weight of proof brings little pleasure The trick's the thing, a cereal measure Mao sifts the shit from trash to treasureMarching! Marching! Primed and armed, a loose projectile Forced into internal exileIn Apple light, the laptop lackeys Software pedlars rake the readies Backstab sermons sitting pretty Bankrupt, cynics leave the cityMarching! Marching His cupboard bare; his vision hardwired Roving tamer; empty larderHearts of gold; no pot to piss in Join the queue of future has-beens A worker's thirst to be at leisure Dissatisfied without measure