Lyrics:
This is the scrape.
Clocking in and clocking out.
Hell bent and out of shape.
Still the ends don’t meet at all.
And in the absence of virtues,
our hands sold off by the hour,
with faces black, still battered and bruised we sing.
Clocking in and clocking out.
Hell bent and out of shape.
Still the ends don’t meet at all.
And in the absence of virtues,
our hands sold off by the hour,
with faces black, still battered and bruised we sing.
Bless me, bless me, I’m innocent.
We all lean together.
So keep one hand on your wage,
or we just won’t eat,
these lungs of stone refrain.
And I’m screaming,
self-preservation,
down into cold, cold earth.
But still cracked and damaged we sing.
So keep one hand on your wage,
or we just won’t eat,
these lungs of stone refrain.
And I’m screaming,
self-preservation,
down into cold, cold earth.
But still cracked and damaged we sing.
Bless me, bless me, I’m innocent