It can't be luck when it's this consistent
If they took me out back tonight
The greatest gift would an end in sight
Another day in the churning machine
The pile grows and I'm counting beans
If my shovel ever hits bedrock
Look out for dynamite and hit the deck
It's all wrapped in warped frustration
I bet we look like ants from their position
A gang of chains around my neck
Forgive me for this endless debt
What if I'd never been born he said
Fallen angels won't pretend you're dead
$8,000 and my mouth still bleeds
But you can't fly with clipped wings
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