Paroles de Consortium Y2K

Subliminal propaganda, corporate theft, no conscience left Is there something wrong in the land of the freak? Behind the so-called ideals, shameful and odious lies Chromed scum, masters in disguise selling shreds of paradise They twist laws, crawl in marble gutters Playing with lives like they juggle with numbers Some people rob us with a fountain pen Even worst: we're helpless when such things happen Oh! They surely do it with standing and grandeur Criminal measures wrapped in golden words Should we applause their falsity and their tax-free philanthropy? Yes I wanna be politically incorrect And plunge my fingers deep in the unscarred wounds Medias can spread their praises, don't give a damn I won't pay a facelift to the gruesome minds What's the gist of this joke? We're forced fed with illusions! Mesmerized mass, stuck in a rut, caught in a web, paralysed Broken hope, downhill slope, slow decay, corruption's heydays So many struggles to strangle the witnesses… Too many sickening truths in confidential reports… So many reasons to burn the compromising proofs… So much dishonesty rightfully breeds contempt. Overthrown democracies, moral bankruptcies Falsified archives, a jigsaw puzzle to analyse Contradictory information, a labyrinth of deforming mirrors Suspicion is not dissidence; it's a right we must all claim Listen to my blazing diatribe, my desperate anthem Here and now my revolt growls as I spew sick rhymes for a troubled world The explosive chronicle of an epoch of silent wrath A tragedy tattooed in the back of a blind.