When I'm in work I don't feel the work pains
I don't hear the gears crank
Nobody has the time for that
Then on the back step I'm racking up my sick pay

I listen for the song that the earth plays
I used to have an ear for that
I gotta get it back
I wish I could take the fattest cut

Toss it on the grill and cook it up
Even if I save my money up I still feel bad
When I get to feeling things again
Nothing around to put my feelings in

I run out of time money and energy and I feel bad
I lose the feeling out the back door and I try to reel it in
Before I get buried in a big black box
I pack my bags with pepper and salt

I'm gonna climb that hill until I reach the top
I'm gonna cock that gun
I'm gonna shoot that boar
I'm not gonna eat like a fool no more