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replicator (of futurology) - confused كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1]
keep working, don’t rock the boat
you need that next pay-slip to keep yourself afloat
but how true is that?
i guess i’ll never find out
the system offers me just enough to hold me down
never push the drastic actions, instead i sit with a scowl
m-sses are growing restless, just threaten our pensions
austerity tightens, lower the food prices
an epidemic of depression, extent everyone’s credit
is this really how economics works or am i just being deceived?
it’s hard enough to be me, let alone choose what i believe
i understand the apathy, don’t wanna pay it any mind
this media claiming breeds ignorance by design
people work around the clock to destabilize the public perception
addressing [?] so the tensions directed to meshing segments
about how to spend your poverty wage on even more presents at s-xmas
if that doesn’t work, give us emotional p-rn
change your profile pic to help the people of paris mourn
don’t question the threat these new laws pose your civil liberties
we’ll send in the infantry, you watch i’m a celebrity, ah
it’s gettin’ heavy, mate, and i can’t see a way out
i could protest, go scream and shout, “freedom now”
but i need income
guess i could be an academic
build up debt, you’re apathetic and caught in the system
f-cked if i did then, f-cked if i didn’t
it’s like everything’s kept hidden and nothing’s consistent
we’re kept at a distance from where power exists
and the solutions on hand seem laughable
the legislative equivalent of a game of whack-a-mole

[verse 2]
see there’s no nuance to our arguments
just an affluent parliament who reap benefits from negligence
it’s in our best interests to keep doing what we’re doing
‘cause i’ve seen behavior put them in a privileged position
why listen when you can turn a profit?
if it doesn’t fill the coffers, the problem’s not worth solving
we need to change the indicators of progress
behave in ways more indicative of conscious
i’m tired of hearing the nonsensical non-sequiturs
spit from ventricles that are swollen with [?]
it makes me sick, all the on-air power they have
the life experience couldn’t be further from the average man
how can you represent when you can’t even understand the daily basis for existence on this private prison we call homeland
i take direction from no man, i’m a nomad
trying to expand my understanding
reprimanded by a zombie economy that chokes the autonomy right out of me with efficiency
but for as long as i survive sufficiently, i’ll denounce the injustice ’til the last breath of my lungs
’til i’m drawn, quartered and hung
redemption songs will be sung
and a battle fought ’til it’s won
until we’re one

- replicator of futurology

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