Grind

This is a nation removed
Blessed, geographically separate from the rest
A life raft adrift from the folly's of war with solitary peace enough to prove 
We really do hate the poor

I don't talk to my friends about houses no more
It's not a score I'm willing to wave in the face 
Of the raced out, the paced out 
The working all day knowing their sweat will never pay out what they need
As they see their dreams of stability accelerate steadily
Towards the current event horizon effortlessly
Then have that critical mass broadcast their every fault live on talkback
That boomer-box that mocks their plight

But I'm breaking bread man, I'm lucky
I'm living that Kiwisaver depleted
First home grant diminished
Minor bank of mum and dad
Investments tapped, drained away
Hope never another rainy day dream
Still living that dream
So how dear I snap back from my ivory stack
Office employed, white collared
The privilege tattooed on my pigment-less skin

Imagine a place where the weak were all strong
Our soldiery braver than bravery told
A country's good soul only challenged in pride
By its cultural unity, it's beauty inside

It's a fantasy, they call us Scandinavia of the south
And honestly, i dunno
Maybe it's the mountains and maybe it's the economy
And maybe it's the suicide rate, I think it's mythology
There is no depression in New Zealand, like Blam Blam Blam
We're pioneering people children, one culture all holding hands
We live in a place where all weakness is wrong
And the poor all deserve what they're served
With that headstrong belief they're all taught
To have children's the way to a wage only white people pay
That's the flat white flavoured boast
They use to wash down this first home fucking weight 
in avocado and toast man

But I'm breaking bread, still lucky
Still living that Kiwisaver depleted
First home grant diminished
Minor Bank of mum and dad
Investment tapped, drained away
Hope never another rainy day dream
Still living that dream
So how dear I snap back from my ivory stack, now
Office employed, white collared
The privilege tattooed on my pigment-less

Imagine a place where the weak were all strong
Our soldiery braver than bravery told
A country's good soul only challenged in pride
By its cultural unity, it's beauty inside
Imagine a place where the weak were thought beast
To burden, to labour, to punish repeat
A country's good soul only challenged in pride by its capital gains
Untaxed, undivided
Imagine a place where you birth date must mean
You lumber or struggle along only seen
As lazy, or industrious and just maybe
We were never as egalitarian as we mean.