Some people spend their money,
trying to buy a piece of time.
Other souls are clocking in,
trying to raise an honest dime.
And sometimes its not funny,
the way our hours are torn away.
Outside, its so sunny,
but we're like birds
inside a cage.
Nurtured with a number,
an I.D, to make sure we pay.
From the first breath that we take,
till the one that meets the grave.
But nowt can't steal the thunder
the energy that carries through.
There's nothing that could ever ****,
our feelings and our right to truth.