I build their dreams and watch

The disintegration of my own

The blowback coats the cold lips

That I press on a cold fucking grave

A plot I have paid for in time

[?]

Stitch my heart onto a time clock

Enslave my devotion and shackle me to

Hollow ideals, a spreadsheet for my indenture

[?]

A smile for every time they spit in my face

The poor man’s burden

Nothing else exists when I’m in this fucking hole

An outside world I am not invited to

That has forgotten who I am

The grass is never greener

Things can always burn darker than the dollar bills

That flow through the bloated veins of commerce

Greed; a plague on our fucking city

Control them with financial suffering

For it rings tried, tested, and true