So all I see around me is illusion
Built to trick us all into consumption
And the branches are hanging from the ceiling
And the trees are growing out of plastic soil
And the flowers give me no real feelings
It’s just dead empty and cold

I see people like robots on their round
In and out, in and out, it’s so sound
And the man behind the keyboard he smiles
And the girl behind the counter walks the extra miles
For the customers who bargain on the prize
And swearing, for they cannot find the right size