What can a hard workin’ man do?
Hang down his head and cry, hittin’ a hard road?
Helpless pieces of the game are there
and magic shadows of the nights and days.
“Better, stronger, faster”, that’s what they say.
“Better, stronger, faster”, that’s what they say.
For more and more kids there’s no meaning in the world.
They don’t know the story they ought to play.
The cleverness of banka-gangstas
and the strange polito row
are all but stories of the better, stronger, faster.
Are all but stories of the better, stronger, faster.
They, from sleep awoke, are told
and, once told, to sleep return.
They open the door to police acting like killers.
The young are mistreated and are sent to war.
Better, stronger, faster they will fade.
Better, stronger, faster they will fade.
Politos as they are have no future.
The future needs universal wisdom and love.
Heaven sometimes is fulfilled desire
and hell the shadow from a soul on fire
burnin’ better, stronger, faster and not meant to expire,
not meant to expire.
Lyrics & Music: Michel Montecrossa, © Mira Sound Germany