I Object! The Chosen Profession
Crawling through the doors onto cold floors they provide
no sympathy for what i feel inside just tonight, i gotta
get through tonight just to crawl back into my cave and
die we are the bottom of the line ? its not the pride
just to survive we are the bottom of the line retirement
not on the mind seeing tomorrow would be fine ?feeling
used and mentally abused is the norm in the chosen
profession my labor is where it ends the eight hours is
all you get my mind is free my goals are set my mind
wanders on your time your rules my life