|
we are common |
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more than we think |
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and so unique |
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to whoever's behind the eyes |
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we're the zeros |
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behind the billions |
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assigned numbers |
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so specific |
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wake up before the sun |
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leave your hour |
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to the highway |
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and your day to |
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line the pockets |
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of some man with |
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the softest hands |
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sometimes i think |
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that it's all a |
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sick joke on |
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the middle class |
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keep on pushing, pushing, pushing |
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keep your head down |
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and your number, your numbers up |
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i swear on my checkbook you'll be up here soon |
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we're all counting on, counting on you |
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put your time in |
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and time again |
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spend your weekends |
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finishing dead ends |
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years go by |
|
xeroxed days of |
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exchanging your life |
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for a paycheck |
|
sometimes i think |
|
that it's all a |
|
sick joke on |
|
the middle class |
|
keep on pushing, pushing, pushing |
|
keep your head down |
|
and your number, your numbers up |
|
keep your numbers up |
|
keep on pushing, pushing, pushing |
|
keep your head down |
|
and your number, your numbers up |
|
i swear on my checkbook you'll be up here soon |
|
we're all counting on, counting on you |
