Hey, Son, well good for you
You've earned a scrap of paper
Four years gone for a passport out
Of a live of manual labour
Let me tell you what you'll find
It's like slaving in a mine
You'll be skinned alive
If you're in it for the pay
They can pay you what you're worth
They can pay you what you need
But they can never reimburse
When they only paint in green
'Cause it isn't worth your time
If you're in it for the pay
Freeways choked with exhaust fumes from
The dearly departed
They've got the pedal down, but
Their engine's never started
Speeding off to the abattoir
Where body and soul are parted
The last great refuge for
The damned and broken hearted
Man, it isn't worth the drive
If you're in it for the pay
Hey, Son, well good for you
You put your soul on sale
But there's no one you can pay
To stop the final coffin nail
'Cause you can't take it with you
If you're in it for the pay
