hand in hand with people that hate you
not feeling disgust for disgusting things
looking in the eye of a gentleman's lie
spreading your wings even though you can't fly

hope is what we manage to get from this

wasting time with precious discussions
'bout pointless subjects of anyone's choice
swimming miles against dangerous tides
dying lonely after saving their lives

mr. big man reads out the instructions
then dies at his desk for everyone's joy
to see the files you need fancier ties
they'll clip your wings just before you can try

oh, what do we manage to get from this?