Paroles de Borrowed Time

I'm not theirs in product or in name But I've got no true discretion I can speak of You can make your own distinctions but it's all the fucking same It's servitude for someone else's sake And I dream I'm gonna give'em the old heave ho! And my every thought turns to overthrow (Let's go!) And I strive to bite the hand that's feeding me at last And carry on the banner of the working class When I'm dead on my feet or shackled to the beat I'm always looking back over my shoulder They make me paranoid and relegate me to defeat A fate that fits me like an oak box The long hard days of dead monotony The foreman looking down, so paternal I'll curse the fucking hours cause I know they're not for me But for now I'll carry on on borrowed time