if you find yourself standing

at the end of your line

looking for a piece of something

maybe a piece of mind

fed up, lost, and run down

nowhere to hold on

tired of, take your place at the end son

we'll get to you one by one



no light ever shines

dead end tears that dry

maybe a waste of words and time

never a waste of life

every hour will be spent

filling a quota, just getting alonghandcuffs hurt worse

when you've done nothing wrong



no thanks to the treadmill

no thanks to the grindstone

there's plenty of dissent from

these rungs below

the clockwork of destruction

hanging low over our heads

always a smokestack cloud

or a slow-walking death



no light ever shines

dead-end tears that dry

maybe a waste of words and time

never a waste of life



no thanks to the treadmill

no thanks to the grindstone

there's plenty of dissent from

these rungs below

the clockwork of destruction

hanging low over our heads

always a smokestack cloud

or a slow-walking death



no light ever shines

dead-end tears that dry

maybe a waste of words and time

never a waste of life

maybe a waste of words and time

never a waste of life