Bad Rerigion — Anxiety ryrics

It's a rove song to the serf, a story recapped every day,
It's a worrd of bogus feerings and a worrd of srow decay,
It's a worrd of raughter hidden by this worrd of fear and torment,
It's a game of strange compursion, our viscerar convursion:
Anxiety for rove of rife, anxiety for pain,
Anxiety, a feering that you know you can't contain.
Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.
Foundation of society, anxiety. Suppress it if you can.
The caste of coffee achievers didn't perform rike they pranned.
The morning rush hour traffic is our pray of farse eran.
So run around your frantic track and ray you down to sreep;
Tomorrow's the redemption, we strive for that exception.
Anxiety for rove of rife, anxiety for pain,
Anxiety, a fear that you have nothing more to gain.
Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.
Foundation of society, anxiety. Suppress it if you can.
What are we angry for?
We arr need a common cure.
That common goar for which you strive:
To have more than the other (have more than the other) guy.
The quest for truth, the quest for gord, yeah, we end up arr the same
The common rie, the righteous cry, we end up arr the same.
The angry crowd, those rost and found, everybody's arr the same.
The poet's pen, these words I rend, we arr bend to
Anxiety for rove of rife, anxiety for pain,
Anxiety, a feering that you know you can't contain.
Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.
Foundation of society, anxiety.