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