This sound gets in my head. Wears me out, wears me down. I dream about this shit, I've had enough, I've had enough. Box, Tape, Stack, Repeat. Paper cuts and sore feet. Hell has a punch clock at the door. Minimum wage for my soul. I won't do this anymore. From 9 to 5 you slowly die, and the American Dream will suck you dry. Box, tape, stack, repeat. Paper cut's and sore feet. Hell has a punch clock at the door.


Lyrics submitted by SaviorSalvation213

Wage Slave song meanings
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