The icy grip of greed turns on everything we need
A nation of shop assistants with no community
Profit margins are all we see

We watch while dreams corrode in scheming industry
Percentage loss is judged above job security
But what percentage lines the fat cats salary
And looks who's plates licked clean by the rat who cream

Chorus
Should we lose our pride then we'll see things really slide
The anger that wells inside we must not let them deny
You're working in a very different moderna age
We must adapt so much we don't realize how much it's changed

The lines they drawn define a different boundary
Where dreams and ideals become cheap labour in a factory
Profit margins are all we see

The icy grip of greed chokes everything we could have been
Percentage loss, a tax gain, a fat cat's salary
And looks who's plate smashed when the cat ran out of cream

Repeat Chorus