anthrax (uk)

Prime to Pension
So here I am in this world but why was I born?So a person can profit as my structured frame is wornThe beginning was at school encouraged with your careerWith no ambition in this life is what mother and father fearThey want you to be their admired child, progress, and be someoneAnd the expectations that they enforce carefully divert you from the scumDon't let them use your chance as their second time roundThey chose to waste their life away, not yours into the groundFrom prime to pension it's the fighting struggle for successFrom the backbone of the factory to the early retirement seems, nothing more nothing lessLiving in the illusion of taking part and working wellClouds the sweating stamp on you - youre an object to use and sellYoure living in no more awareness then the product that you makeFor people are moulding your thought and skills until youve nothing left to stakeStriving to survive grateful for the little that sees you throughThe bosses laughing in their wealth, the wealth that is created by youAnd the rewards for your service are never too highPerhaps a gold watch will help me see those last few years go by...Before I die. From Letras Mania