Texty: Bled (The). Heat Fetish. Smoke Breaks.

Slave away, for the price of your youth you can earn yourself a dying wage.
You're worth your weight in the sweat that you spill for the good of the company
At the end of the night counting on your smokebreaks
You seem to move a lot of product but the product doesn't move anyone,
and that's the honest to god damned truth.
Did you answer the call when it came or did you call it a day?

Like my father, he buried his passion,
sacrificed the twelve-bar blues to take on the real world.
At dawn I awoke to go back to the clockwork
where I sing my songs to whoever will listen.
A glimpse of the good life beyond 9 to 5
to the has-beens, the no ones, civilians and children.
On the company dime, burning all your smokebreaks
You seem to move a lot of product but the product doesn't move...

Trudge on, workhorse.
God help you all you're just getting by.
You run like a river without a prize in your sights.
Bleed on. Bleed on. Bleed yourself dry..

This road is my bridge,
She will wreck your life.
It's for me to decide,
how you'll wreck your life.
Cut the Queen, just try.
She will wreck your life.
It's for me to decide.
How you'll wreck your life.
Cut the Queen, just try.
She will wreck your life.
It's my life to wreck in my own way