Hold Up

The story is mundane, plain John, plain Jane

Tame in the same lane, everyday the same rain

Feeling the same pain, tired of the paper game

Cracked under the strain, planned every damn thing

Switched off the main gain, pulled out the main gain

The main aim is maintain, fame is the end game

Wages are minimum, counting every shilling of them

Tennant in a tenement, wealth sweet like cinnamon

Don't wanna be killing men, but the debt needs filling in

Rob with no sentiment, escape holes they're drilling them

Don't move, put your hands up! stand in a stanza

Extravaganza , man up, pull your pants up