It pays the lowest wage
Its considered a job
10x10 foot cage
They say it's better than the rest
I'm a part time slave at best
Over worked and under-paid

No matter what you say
I always end up wrong
Broke, no chance of gold
So let's play the same old game
Of who's going home alone
It's your soul you've sold

This rent, this place
The pressure sinks in for days
And I'm lost again with no fucking answers
Somehow you make more than me
I travel for minimal shifts
And work my goddamn ass off
While you get to go on "sick leave"

At 9am this gate
Opens for the world
For the most part I still hate
And your turnover rate
We all know is a joke
So I'm spitting on its grave

No matter what you say
I always end up wrong
Broke, no chance of gold
So let's play the same old game
Of who's going home alone
It's your soul you've sold

If ranting on this stage
Means I'm doing something wrong
It's never felt so right
I'm just acting, acting my age
Crying in every song
My life's the saddest sight