On this hollow earth In this empty space We all dance to a tune Played by the master race Those faceless moneymen Yeah, you're probably one of them Hear their endless muzak tune That plays on and on And when the bullshit happy choir Greets another grim day When the angels swim to our aid Well, here comes another cliché While we hide from our barren end The advertisers pretend That the world is as they say Well, here comes another cliché