Letra de Black Friday

We get up early, we come home tired Our lives for hire, we're making money for someone else Can't breathe like there's hands around my throat Can't scream this place is filled with ghosts Everybody's looking for something Can't leave or we're left with nothing Clap your hands do the dead man shuffle Slouch our way into an early grave Is it disappointment or mild annoyance? A sense of contentment or fucking resentment? Move your feet to this dead end beat Slouch our way into an early grave Get out of bed, get fucking dressed And think of better ways to keep busy Clap your hands do the dead man shuffle Killing ourselves for a living wage Get out of bed, Get fucking dressed, And get busy