The Southside Choir Boys - Curse of the Working Class

Gotta keep my hands busy or they'll make a noose
And lately I don't have anything to lose
Work away the flesh, work away the bone
Work dawn to dusk hoping to atone
I've got so many sins to work away
Working off these sins every single day
If my hands stop moving then my head will start
Then it won't be long til I lose my heart

Gotta bend over! (Bend over!)
Or today will be my last
The lord and the company own my ass
No hope for future! (No future!)
No time for the past
It's the curse of the working class

Got a hunch in my back, knees hurt when it rains
Gotta a bottle of whiskey to numb the pain
We were meant for more than slaving birth til death
Believing that god says we are his blessed

Gotta bend over! (Bend over!)
Or today will be my last
The lord and the company own my ass
No hope for the future! (No future!)
No time for the past
It's the curse of the working class

So pass me the shovel and pass me the flask
I'll dig my own grave for the company brass
I'll give my every breath, right down to the last
Cause no one survives the curse of the working class

Written by:
Joseph Thompson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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