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• Artiste: anthrax (uk)
• Titre: Prime to Pension
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So here I am in this world but why was I born? So a person can profit as my structured frame is worn The beginning was at school encouraged with your career With no ambition in this life is what mother and father fear They want you to be their admired child, progress, and be someone And the expectations that they enforce carefully divert you from the scum Don't let them use your chance as their second time round They chose to waste their life away, not yours into the ground From prime to pension it's the fighting struggle for success From the backbone of the factory to the early retirement seems, nothing more nothing less Living in the illusion of taking part and working well Clouds the sweating stamp on you - youre an object to use and sell Youre living in no more awareness then the product that you make For people are moulding your thought and skills until youve nothing left to stake Striving to survive grateful for the little that sees you through The bosses laughing in their wealth, the wealth that is created by you And the rewards for your service are never too high Perhaps a gold watch will help me see those last few years go by... Before I die.