As has been said, the lyrics for this song were taken from magazine clippings, and read by a Macintosh computer. The lyrics, taken right from the horse's mouth, show us what we have taken to believe as the ideal lifestyle. A lifestyle where we are all fitter, happier, and more productive. But the final line gives us a twist: it shows us what we've really become: a pig in a cage on antibiotics. The perfect tongue-in-cheek line to slap us all in the face with.
We've given our lives away. We didn't lose them, they weren't stolen, we handed them away. We handed them to the very magazines that Thom got his lyrics from. We turn to them to learn how to live our lives. We turn to them to learn what the ideal lifestyle is. And as a result we are all identical slaves. We are all pigs in cages on antibiotics. Because we have stopped thinking for ourselves and deciding the best way to live our individual lives. Now we have no individual voice, just the voice of the computer that we are shackled to. We have no words, for we have given them to the magazines which must now provide our lyrics.
We are not men. We are enslaved pigs with computerized voices, taking antibiotics because we're told they will help.
As has been said, the lyrics for this song were taken from magazine clippings, and read by a Macintosh computer. The lyrics, taken right from the horse's mouth, show us what we have taken to believe as the ideal lifestyle. A lifestyle where we are all fitter, happier, and more productive. But the final line gives us a twist: it shows us what we've really become: a pig in a cage on antibiotics. The perfect tongue-in-cheek line to slap us all in the face with.
We've given our lives away. We didn't lose them, they weren't stolen, we handed them away. We handed them to the very magazines that Thom got his lyrics from. We turn to them to learn how to live our lives. We turn to them to learn what the ideal lifestyle is. And as a result we are all identical slaves. We are all pigs in cages on antibiotics. Because we have stopped thinking for ourselves and deciding the best way to live our individual lives. Now we have no individual voice, just the voice of the computer that we are shackled to. We have no words, for we have given them to the magazines which must now provide our lyrics.
We are not men. We are enslaved pigs with computerized voices, taking antibiotics because we're told they will help.