Apparatchik - For The Mathematics

House always wins

So don’t cry, cry

Down like water

Down like sand

Got to try, ‘cause I

I am an old dog

This is a new trick

I won’t look down, down

Apparatchik

These are the punches that we roll with

This is the shit

When it’s so much easier to stomach it

I’m downwind of you

Black berets and blue jeans

A wry smile, a smile

From the glue

For your tip tape

I get high, high

All these cars

Have lost their soul

In the race for the prize, compromise

Apparatchik

These are the punches that we roll with

This is the shit

When it’s so much easier to stomach it

And I’m downwind of you

‘Cause you give good odour

And you raise my game

From this high rise hoping

You steal my gains

Stuck together with traffic jams

Sweaty palms

Apparatchik

These are the punches that we roll with

This is the shit

When it’s so much easier to stomach it

I’m downwind of you

Laugh now but one day we’ll be in charge

Laugh now but one day we’ll be in charge

Laugh now but one day we’ll be in charge