Представляем точный текст композиции "Systematic Death" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Crass . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «Systematic Death» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Crass передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
Crass - "Systematic Death"
Lyrics to Systematic Death : 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. Crying out for food as her parents fight. 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, Theyll pat him if hes good and theyll beat him if hes bad. Poor little kiddy, poor little chap, Theyll force feed his mind with their useless crap. Theyll force feed his mind with their useless crap. System, system, system. Theyll teach her how to cook. System, system, system. Teach her how to look. System, system, system. Theyll 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 sweety, poor little filly, Theyll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly. Theyll fuck her mind so they can fuck her silly. System, system, system. Hes grown to be a man. System, system, system. Taugh to fit the plan. System, system, system. Forty years of jobs. System, system, system. Pushing little buttons, pulling little knobs. Poor fucking worker, poor little serf, Working like a mule for half of what hes worth. Poor fucking grafter, poor little gent, Working for the cash that hes already spent. Working for the cash that hes already spent. Hes selling his life, Shes his loyal wife, Timid as a mouse, Shes got her litlle house, Hes 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 doesnt really mind Cos hes getting overtime. He likes to put a bit away Just 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 theyd take a trip abroad, Do all the things they cant afford. Shed really like to have a fur, Hes like a bigger car. They could buy a bungalow, With a Georgian door for show. He might think of leaving work, But no, he wouldnt like a shirk. Hed much prefer to stay And get his honest days pay. Hes got a life of work ahead, Theres no rest for the dead. Shes tried to make it nice, Hes said thankyou once or twice. System, system, system. Deprived of any hope. System, system, system. Taught they couldnt 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 didnt really care. Poor little darlings, just your ordinary folks, Victims of the system and its cruel jokes. Victims of the system and its cruel jokes. The couple views the wreckage And dreams of home sweet home, Theyd almost paid the mortgage, Then the system dropped its bomb. [ Systematic Death Lyrics ]
Содержание трека помогает не только запомнить любимые строки, но и ощутить связь с Crass. Возможно, вы заметите, как лирика «Systematic Death» перекликается с вашим опытом, или найдёте ответы на давние вопросы. Эта страница создана для ценителей музыки: здесь вы сохраните текст для личного использования, поделитесь им с друзьями или используете в творчестве. Погружайтесь в мир слов композиции «Systematic Death» — каждая строчка здесь обретает новый смысл.