Letras:Charles Bronson. Complete Discocrappy. 4 Alarm Counter Fuck.

The picture on the wall
doesn't seem accurate at all
where everybody's white and smiling
while you're piling up in the shit and dying
and somehow nobody seems to be complaining
that your opinion doesn't mean a goddamn thing

I can't ever go that far

Treated like a fucking
worthless bastard
Just keep smiling on the "team"
where you lose your identity faster
forever, struggling and hoping
for something better some day
and with every "Hi, how are you?"
goes another ounce of your integrity

This is it, this is your life
Nothing to show for it, nothing to decide