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Who's the real underclass? you really believe that you're better off than me? who's the one working a fifty hour week? the new working class shuffles papers at desks computer screens blind you to your living death another day working another day lost a six A.m. sunset at a five day week cost the blood on your fingertips, mind frayed like rope unhealthy reminder of purpose revoked you'll get your share, you'll go nowhere and you've no idea and I don't care and no one cares âcause no one's there like you care complacency for show last appeal gone you know and no one ever gets off for good behavior when they're living on death row and it's all the same the system's blackwash life's cruel game and it's all the same the system's blackwash life's cruel game Letras de canciones and there's no stand you sicken me selling off your sanity two dollar happiness five for the rest of me then we fall like raindrops you're pulling me down to a place I never asked to go (but) it's such a lonely trip to be making all alone so I ask again: you really believe that you're better off than me? who's the one working a fifty hour week? the highway to hell's a road paved with gold and the price of your selfishness is making you is making you is making you is making you old From Letras Mania