| We draw your eyes to our images: Carrot and stick. | |
| We've got a sense for what makes you tick. | |
| The more out of reach, the more desperate you'll be trying to get it. | |
| We're the sweet distraction sure to provoke a reaction. | |
| We'll show you what you need: You can be sure this world is yours if you're paying for it. | |
| Once we've got your attention we might sell you something you don't have the cash to pay. | |
| Put it on credit. | |
| Pay by instalment. | |
| Sit back and chill: and wait for your consignment. | |
| We make you pay to eat | |
| We make you pay to sleep | |
| We make you pay to breathe | |
| We make you pay for any pleasures you could come up with | |
| Now we reached our goals: We keep you stuck in a job that you loathe. | |
| Now you're dead on the whole because you're bound to pay us off. | |
| At the end of a tiresome day of repetitive work without having a say you crave for nothing more then mere dispersal: | |
| Turn on the TV and switch off reality. | |
| And here we are back again with our screens of perfection: The perfect distraction. | |
| Fancy cars, furbished shopping marts: All that it takes to make you fall for our candy-bars. | |
| What a fertile symbiosis: You help us pay our bills. | |
| And in turn we assist you: Keep treading the mill. | |
| We set the standards. | |
| We embody all you ever wanna be. | |
| We play with your insecurities. | |
| We make you feel miserable. |
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