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Baptists
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Farmed Baptists
Whole days spent digging holes
Jagged edged shovels
Chipped on rock soil
Dirty everything
Blistered hands sweating
Mouth too dry to sing
This well's been tapped.
Poles sledged like stakes to vampire hearts
Cutting metal with metal
The day's been parched
The more you sweat
The less sparks you'll feel
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The less you'll care
The more money you'll make
The less feelings remain
The more shit you'll take
You're farmed, you're fucked.
These days are long and I don't work for you, I work for me
I'll give what I got, but at day's end, I'll be free
You'll take my time and I'll take every cent that you will pay
This trench I've dug will separate both parts of my day.
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