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The Infested
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Backpains And Agony
Every morning the alarm bells,
pierce my drums and then I smell that smell.
In this bed so nice and warm,
but I know the room I'm in's so cold.
Ignore the time for just five minutes more,
coz my brains not ticking over for sure.
Why can't I just wake in my own time,
Why can't I just lay in this time.
The clouds are pissing acid rain,
and the air I breath, my lungs decay.
Mindless zombies walk down the street,
why? All we need to do is eat.
Nine to five, five days a week,
and the cars are clogging up the streets.
Depression and boredom sets in my head,
why did I bother getting out of bed?
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This isn't life, this is called slavery,
no matter how you dress it up.
Subject to work, back pains and agony,
are we really better off?
Every night I'd lay awake,
worrying about the mistakes I made.
Nightmares of the day ahead,
another day of ass kissing that I can't take.
So I shoved it, left them in shit.
It sure felt good just for a bit,
but now my bank account is dry,
and begging for the day I get another try.
I hate work, work hates me.
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