| 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
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| Through the rain and fog up Route 6 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 half
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| Of his nickel-plated watch
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| Let’s die while we’re young, let’s die while we’re young
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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 the three-ring binder
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| Reminders of our old pact
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| Let’s die while we’re young, let’s die while we’re young
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| Let’s die while we’re young, but now we’re too old for that |