All We Make Is Entertainment Lyrics - Postcards From A Young Man - Manic Street Preachers

I'm no longer preaching to the converted 

That congregation has long ago deserted 

All we discovered was even more despair 

But we learned how to cope, we learned how 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 

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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 

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The insides of our nation have been exposed 

It only confirms what we already know 

Pointless jobs just lead to pointless lives 

It's breaking up our bones, it's breaking up our minds