[Verse 1: The Stupendium]
It's my pleasure to welcome you
To your new home in apartment two
With one bedroom and a splendid view
Just don't forget when the rent is due
We expect all residents to abide by tenancy rules
Keep quiet, keep clean, keep telling the truth
Present evidence of any elements who
Have better to do than to comply with our societal requirements
Those who stay in line might just survive until retirement
Pay no mind as I enquire just why the other night you went
To the laundry room to hide an item in the dryer, friend?
This block is state-provided
And you'd be wise to be grateful
Side with every regulation and you'll find food on the table
It's not a state, provided you find decadence is wasteful
It's been perfect since the state decided what décor is tasteful
As property manager my job is sorting the utilities
Disposal of the garbage and the laundering facilities
Why would I compile a full report on your activities?
I'm just a standard landlord... Glory to the Ministry

[Chorus: McGwire]
Lock the doors and close the curtains
Hold your breath lest you should speak your sins
But you can't keep a secret from the building that you keep it in
Befriend your fellow tenants
Show a smile and keep it pleasant
But know everyone's a friend
Until you need to turn some people in
It's the breathing on the phone
Hiding just beneath the tone
It's the things that shift when no one's home
Well, you may be on your own
But you'll never be alone
Yes, we all live here
But it's no one's home
[Verse 2: The Stupendium]
(They're here...)
To get through the day
It behooves you to play by the rules and behave
Do the state preapprove all the tunes that you play?
When alone in a room, well to whom do you pray?
Assume that your neighbors are moving away
When the black van comes in the night
And you're numb to the sight
Of another one fumbling for somewhere to hide
As their wife just runs for their life
'Fore the ones with the guns can arrive
And they're gone 'fore the sun can arise
To a government provided bunker for some realignment
It's just fine, you can trust it's a wonderful time
Just go about your business normally
No one's following, I'm not recording
Your paranoia is awfully boring
According to all of your friends that talk to me
Most importantly, please speak clear when you're broadcasting
Your honest thoughts on the law or economy
My provided mics are tiny and I can't transcribe properly
Should you ever behold me with my peepers pressed to a keyhole
You can trust I'm just checking the tumblers for rust
I'm a custodian, not a Ministry mole
Settle in for a night on the couch
No questioning what that red light is about
Now bleeping on your ceiling since the time you went out
It's just a little gaslighting, put aside any doubts
You're fine in your house
So confide to your spouse any crimes carried out
Any tiny amount of new ideas found just a mite out of bounds
'Cause I'm writing them down on a timestamped account
What's it matter, every night or two?
If I sneak in, have a rifle through
But depending what I find, well you'll be faced with another kind of rifle too
Privacy is the cry of the defiant to compliancy
But grease my palm and I might not see
Those books they banned from the libraries
What do you mean, that that's not yours?
It appeared one night in your cabinet drawers?
I have to report it, I regret
But of course, I could forget
Societal ideals are reliably pliable
So the rise of a tyrant becomes entirely viable
You'll find that the spying is really quite justifiable
Why are you crying when it's your blind eye that's liable?
Handy landlord here to fix your ventilation whistling
Too many questions and it's not the air that needs conditioning
That telephone's not tampered with, of course it isn't listening
But were it, it prefers the words "Glory to the Ministry"
[Chorus: McGwire]
Lock the doors and close the curtains
Hold your breath lest you should speak your sins
But you can't keep a secret from the building that you keep it in
Befriend your fellow tenants
Show a smile and keep it pleasant
But know everyone's a friend
Until you need to turn some people in
It's the breathing on the phone
Hiding just beneath the tone
It's the things that shift when no one's home
Well, you may be on your own
But you'll never be alone
Yes, we all live here
But it's no one's home

[Outro: The Stupendium]
(They're here...)