don't $#&@ with perfection, this really is a masterpiece
the brainchild of $$#holes with everything to lose
hell bent on forcing the burden of a religion

that demands if you're $#&@ed, you'll stay $#&@ed forever

try to kill the sound of all your hopes and dreams

it's easy street inside the gears of their machines
yeah, we do what we can to get by


like holding back the urge to walk into traffic and when
the workers' rights start cutting into the profits, what's left
eleven hours days leave you just enough to forget them

it's just a choice between a gun or a bottle, don't know
which one you'll teach for when you punch out tomorrow
so now get busy dying, or get busy forgetting

there's no way to win in a world that you never made

it's reliable failure we've all come to know

at the end of the day misery is all alone
the American dream is just saltpeter and shame
and now we're desperately grabbing a fistful of rain


try to kill the sound of all your hopes and dreams
it's easy street inside the gears of their machines

well we do what we can do
yeah, just do what you can to get by
and stay right where they want you

what's there to hold onto
things that will haunt you
night after night after night

stay right where they want you
you might believe that it's all true
can you ignore what will haunt you

every single night

all our fears just to keep us down

there's nothing here on our side of town
nothing's saved, it's been replaced
now it's buried in the rubble of a world that we never made