"Black Friday" lyrics

We get up early
We come home tired
Our lives for hire
We're makin' money for someone else
I can't breathe like there's hands around my throat
I can't scream, this place is filled with ghosts
Everybody's lookin' for somethin'
We can't leave, or we're left with nothin'

Clap your hands, do the dead man shuffle
Slouch our way into an early grave

Is it disappointment
Or mild annoyance?
A sense of contentment
Or fucking resentment?

Move your feet to this dead end beat
Slouch our way into an early grave

Get out of bed
Get fucking dressed
Think of better ways
To keep busy

Clap your hands, do the dead man shuffle
Killing ourselves for a living wage, okay

Get out of bed
(Get out of bed!)
Get fucking dressed
And get busy