Buried Inside - VI lyrics

All that is solid melts into air Yesterday's snow-job is today's sermon A grab-bag of causal narratives and teleological refrains Welcome to the promised land: Athens without slaves But it doesn't wash, and it never will Well-rehearsed conclusions can't remediate the end When the World Bank serves unilaterally, the burden of mythmaking is to clothe each flaccid turn To hammer each loose nail To collect each roadk** Sovereignty delivered on a plate As a pillion pa**enger to southern deregulation A shining example of neoliberal salvation Which fashioned the axe for rate-of return (and cross-subsidization) The gentle hand of economic renewal The cruel hoax of the information commons Between the poles of access and control, there is no third wave