This place is a prison and these people aren’t your friends
Ain’t no postal service when it’s always Sunday in your head
Letters unsent, burnin’ that blunt at both ends
In the break room ready to break
Halfway to broke, halfway to broken down
This job makes you nauseous; you try to hold it down
And they will take every opportunity to comment on your luck
‘cause in this economy you got to be like bottom’s up
even when you know it’s poison, yo: you feelin’ well?
Like a body that’s so hungry it begins to eat itself?
Bootstraps so tight you can’t admit to needin’ help,
on the real, feel like hell and you want it to all stop
Jackass co-workers makin’ small talk
Try to stay focused, you casually glance at your watch
and see that you are halfway, to being halfway
to being halfway done with half of half of your day

Punch that clock ‘til it bleeds
It feels like they’re tryin’ to break us
They tell you to follow your dreams,
but your alarm is going off, wake up

All of my life I been lied to:
just found out my boss makes 500 times what I do
and still wants to cut my hours back
to 39 and three quarters ‘cause 40 gets you a health plan
And I got a feelin’ I’m a need it
Losin’ feelin’ in my knees and my lower back
and I’m going back, trapped like a lower class clown
Hold a rat down, so we kill each other over cheddar
Keep us hungry so we never organize for nothing better
Just make it through the day, make it through the week,
make it through the month,
make a millionaire another couple bucks
What, and like that, the coffee buzz is gone
It’s only 9:30, step by step with the other pawns
One square at a time,
somewhere between the walking dead and the buried alive
You can’t steal what’s already been stolen
You can’t kill what is already dead
So if we got to be zombies, let’s snatch the CEO
and see if there is a brain in his head, until then…

Punch that clock ‘til it bleeds
It feels like they’re tryin’ to break us
They tell you to follow your dreams,
but your alarm is going off, wake up

So if you got a dollar in your pocket, put your hands in the air
Ten dollars in your pocket, put your hands in the air
If it’s a hundred or a thousand that’s fair
But there’s no such thing as an innocent millionaire

If you got a dollar in your pocket, eat a taco
Ten dollars; buy some peanut butter and some bread
If you got a hundred or a thousand you can stock up
But a million may as well be human flesh

If you got a dollar in your pocket, drink some water
If you got ten, have a beer with your lunch
If you got a hundred or a thousand, you can dig your own well
And for a million, you can drink all the blood you can suck

That dollar in your pocket is an insult
Ten dollars in your pocket ain’t enough
The reason that so many of us are have-nots,
is that the haves have way too much
Let’s get ‘em