All We Make Is Entertainment

Manic Street Preachers · Postcards from A Young Man [2010]

I'm no longer preaching to the converted

That congregation has long ago deserted



And we discovered was even more despair

But we learned how to cope, we learnt now not to care



And the sun will still keep rising

Always deflecting, always disguising

Was there ever another place

Did we ever really exist?



All we make is entertainment

A sad indictment of what we're good at

We're all part of the grand delusion



We made so much and we let it all crumble

To safeguard our rights to make us more human

Oh this country is but an empty shell

A clearing house for heaven, a clearing house for hell



And the sun will still keep rising

Always deflecting, always disguising

Was there ever another place

Did we ever really exist?



All we make is entertainment

It's so damn easy, and inescapable

"We're so post-modern, We're so post-everything"



All we make is entertainment

An end to hope and civilization

A simple way to seek perfection



Please don't tell the nation of being exposed

It only confirms what we already know

Pointless jobs just lead to pointless lives

Breaking up our bones, breaking up our minds