Filling a quota, just getting alonghandcuffs hurt worse
When you've done nothing wrong
Maybe a waste of words and time
Never a waste of life
Never a waste of life
There's plenty of dissent from
Or a slow-walking death
No thanks to the grindstone
Tired of, take your place at the end son
These rungs below
Maybe a waste of words and time
Dead end tears that dry
No thanks to the treadmill
No light ever shines
Hanging low over our heads
Fed up, lost, and run down
No light ever shines
No thanks to the grindstone
Dead end tears that dry
No light ever shines
Nowhere to hold on
The clockwork of destruction
These rungs below
Looking for a piece of something
Always a smokestack cloud
Never a waste of life
Every hour will be spent
Or a slow-walking death
We'll get to you one by one
Maybe a waste of words and time
Maybe a waste of words and time
No thanks to the treadmill
Dead end tears that dry
Maybe a piece of mind
Always a smokestack cloud
The clockwork of destruction
There's plenty of dissent from
Hanging low over our heads
