You cannot hide your liberty
Your minds in chains but your legs are free
You just keep living in antiquity
Your life's not real
By the pound

The fascist clowns are at your gates
They wont be long and they wont be late
You wait like empty bottles in crates
To get your fill of their fascist fates
Your life's not real
By the pound

You drive your kids a thousand miles
You don't change nappies - not your style
Those old oak benches have given you piles
Your life's not real
By the pound

And all those stately homes you went to
On Sundays with the mother in law who sent you
Round the fucking twist but the hubby lent you
Deposits and friends and jobs that meant you

Had no life
That's real
By the pound.