Razor Finger Lyrics & Chords By The Funeral

Nine to five wage slave, march to the calling of your own grave. Sold back your paycheck, all part of the human wreck. Never fall out of line. Succumb to routine life then you die. We scorch the Earth where every retail whole and department store lays claim to the American dream. A dream, a fantasy - apple of your eye, picture perfect setting - dillusional and unrealistic. We stole our lives back. We take what we want. That's why we're stealing it all back. The deep pocket theives will reclaim our lives. Agents of free life will never die. We will never die. We stole our lives back. We take what we want