Look around, man. We built a cage and called it a life. Chasing paper that doesn’t even exist. I’m tired. We’re all tired. Listen. (Verse 1) Wake up to an alarm, check the phone, check the bank Another letter from the IRD, my stomach just sank We living in a matrix, a concrete cage Trading all our precious time for a minimum wage Got the debt collectors calling, trying to pick at my bones While we stare like we’re zombies at these glowing screens and phones They tell us “buy this, buy that, get a loan, get a car” But the more we try to build, man, the broker we are The whole world is a trap, it’s a corporate disease Got us begging for our lives on our hands and our knees. (Chorus) (Beat drops, heavy and wide) So burn the system down, let’s go back to the land! Put the seeds in the dirt, put the dirt in my hand! I don’t want your paper money, I don’t want your fake stress I just want a quiet fire and a life I can bless. Take me off of the grid, take me out of the race Give me acres in the wild, give me wide open space. Yeah, the world is fucked up, it’s a house made of sand So I’m going back to basics, living off of the land. (Verse 2) Look at how we living, man, it’s totally flawed Waiting nine weeks just to get a nod from a doc While the politicians argue and the billionaires feast We’re just grinding in the belly of a mechanical beast I’d rather be out WWOOFing, chopping wood in the rain Getting calluses on my hands just to quiet my brain I want to grow my own food, I want to catch my own fish Throw the modern world away, man, that’s my only wish ‘Cause when you’re standing in the forest, ain’t no bills to be paid Just the rhythm of the earth and the shade that it made. (Chorus) (Loud and anthemic) So burn the system down, let’s go back to the land! Put the seeds in the dirt, put the dirt in my hand! I don’t want your paper money, I don’t want your fake stress I just want a quiet fire and a life I can bless. Take me off of the grid, take me out of the race Give me acres in the wild, give me wide open space. Yeah, the world is fucked up, it’s a house made of sand So I’m going back to basics, living off of the land. (Bridge) (Beat strips back to just the acoustic guitar and a heartbeat drum) What is wealth, anyway? Is it numbers on a screen? Or is it waking up breathing, with your conscience clean? Is it a mansion in the city with a heart full of dread? Or a tiny little cabin with a roof o’er your head? They complicated everything, they poisoned the well Sold us tickets to a heaven that is actually hell. (Outro) (Fading out slowly) I’m unplugging the cord. I’m walking into the trees. Keep your debt. Keep your stress. I’m taking my peace back. Back to the dirt. Back to the basics. Yeah.
