Anthem

The poet don't know it, they're the most exploited alive

The movers steal their souls, the pushers steal their minds

Would you trade blown veins for a suit and a tie?

A rig, a noose, or a death bed to die?

Or take your chances with a hardened heart?

Credit card bills and a car that won't start?

All the while you're falling apart

So push right through the open door

Stab your way to the other side

Always wanting more and more

Just to find there's nothing there