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Smoker's Cough
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Adelleda
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1
It's been years since I sold my soul.
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What a life: no advice and no guidance.
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Worked through the weekend at my bullshit job
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with the pumps and the mops and the tire irons.
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Now us slaves break bread and go to work.
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And these pigs will tread on our backs.
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Every bastard to pass through the grinder
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can just laugh at the mania of his own nerves.
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I had to go to class but just drove on through
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the rain and fog up Route Six past the mall.
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Drank through paychecks, they don't last so long.
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But Monday we're on. Please, Monday, come.
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Now us slaves break bread and go to work.
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And these pigs will tread on our backs.
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Every bastard to pass through the grinder
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can just laugh at the mania of his own nerves.
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And embossed in the gold top hald of his nickel-plated watch:
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"Let's die while we're young." While we're still young.
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While us slaves break bread and go to work,
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where sick pigs will shit down our backs.
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Every bastard to pass through the grinder
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our resolve is a reminder we are guts and bone.
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And attached to three ring binder,
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reminders of our old pact:
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let's die while we're young.
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let's die while we're young.
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let's die while we're young.
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But now we're too old for that.
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