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Don't fuck with perfection, this really is a masterpiece the brainchild of assholes with everything to lose hell bent on forcing the burden of a religion that demands if you're fucked, you'll stay fucked forever try to kill the sound of all your hopes and dreams it's easy street inside the gears of their machines yeah, we do what we can to get by like holding back the urge to walk into traffic and when the workers' rights start cutting into the profits, what's left eleven hours days leave you just enough to forget them it's just a choice between a gun or a bottle, don't know which one you'll teach for when you punch out tomorrow so now get busy dying, or get busy forgetting there's no way to win in a world that you never made it's reliable failure we've all come to know at the end of the day misery is all alone the American dream is just saltpeter and shame and now we're desperately grabbing a fistful of rain try to kill the sound of all your hopes and dreams it's easy street inside the gears of their machines well we do what we can do yeah, just do what you can to get by Letras de cancionesand stay right where they want you what's there to hold onto things that will haunt you night after night after night stay right where they want you you might believe that it's all true can you ignore what will haunt you every single night all our fears just to keep us down there's nothing here on our side of town nothing's saved, it's been replaced now it's buried in the rubble of a world that we never made From Letras Mania