Clinging To The Trees Of A Forest Fire. Songs Of Ill Hope And Desperation. Leather Hands. Zeneszám

Slave to my job the wage the paycheck.
A noose of dollar bills on every newborn, from the nursery to the grave.
Sick of being nailed to a social security number.
Living under the trough all I wanted was a horse a plow and three hundred acres of shit I want a horse a plow and three hundred acres of shit.
This is rightfully mine.
I am but an enslaved god among pig faced men.