At the top of the hill they don't know their own strength
Squeezing silver 'till the eagle screams
Circulation is tortured and mutilated
Deformed and bolted down in steel brackets
When there's space between your gears,
You move slow away from suffocation
Oiled down it's meant to ride low
Remember when you could live off dad
in his mud castle at the bottom of the fault line
Life-o-suction - fierce and hungry was to be the motto
Building a revolution with toothpick and glue
Now working the sore arm into a numb confusion of constant mode,
Afflicting the muscle to further strengthen the dexterity of the worker
You gotta let them be - senseless - penniless
Everything they want you to be
Melt your skin stunt your growth
