Yeah!
On leaving school
Immersed in philanthropic notions of a kind
These days I find unthinkable, I
Pulled my frail frame onto my charger
And rode off into a sunset
With agenda predictable
Fresh faced
Young, dumb and tragically convinced that
Blind faith could make an infantile
Normative
Playground theory on social interaction
Positive enough
To show them all!
But alas!
Working the tills
Put hair on my chest
Telesales
Made me a man
Working the tills
Put hair on my chest
Telesales
Made me a man
And everything was going to be ok, but
The making of the man
Was breaking of the back
Upon the rock of everyday hostility
Fresh faced
Young, dumb and tragically convinced that
Blind faith could make an infantile
Normative
Playground theory on social interaction
Positive
And I don't mean to seem
At all ungrateful
But
The air-conditioned life has left me
Gasping for some real conversation
And just because
Turing couldn't possibly
Conceive a machine
With this little personality
I'm working shifts
In veal-fattening pens
And yet I'm puppy thin
Because to tell the truth
I've been hanging on
For something more
Than distant dial tones
And a sense of ending
Go!
Yeah!
The breaking of the back
Was making of the man!
The breaking of the back
Was making of the man!
The breaking of the back
Was making of the man!
The breaking of the back
Was making of the man!
Breaking The Back Lyrics performed by Million Dead are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Breaking The Back Lyrics performed by Million Dead is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD