The resurgence of the vinyl is another dead-cat bounce. The masses make the metrics rise & fall. Volume, volume, volume’s all that ever really counts. And everybody heeds the profit’s call.
Buy the sky & sell the ground, the record spins & the world goes round,
the world goes round & we feel it in our skins,
and there’s no hope for salvation if you don’t have any sins.
Buy the ground & sell the sky, the record spins & the world goes by, the world goes by & the human record spins.
There’s an end to all our history & here’s where it begins.
[drum solo]
And Karl works all the Engels. And Freddie gets bad Marx. And the proles they keep a-chummin’ hard for all the bourgeois sharks.