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letra de prisoner's cinema - the dead milkmen

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(blow winds blow, together we shall go
for to sin, no more on this troubled sh0r-)

no one writes songs about the poor anymore
which is really a shame we could use a couple more
cuz we’re tired of hearing about limos and jets
$200 ties, and million dollar pets

so let’s raise a gl-ss to the salt of the earth
not that -ss, in first cl-ss, enjoying the perks
some praise for the maids who cleaned up the rooms
after they were trashed by the naked moon

or the guy that fixed the tv that elvis shot
the nanny who watched his kids, while mccarthy scored pot
the stage hand who put out the guitar that hendrix set on fire
in the swamps of jersey, someone changed springsteen’s tires

let this be the start of our revolution
let this be the day that we take it all back
let the writing on the wall be our manifesto
let this be the day we go on the attack

they call it “the prisoner’s cinema”
these films that you see in your mind
when after ten hours in a cubicle
it’s just part of the daily grind

they lower your wages, and increase your hours
till your nearly working for free
they cut your vacation, and then your lunch hour
and tell you “you should feel lucky”

let this be the start of our revolution
let this be the day that we take it all back
let the writing on the wall be our manifesto
let this be the day we go on the attack

blow winds blow, together we shall go
for to sin, no more on this troubled sh0r-

what we’ve got planned is a surprise attack
they will never see it coming, no they’ll never suspect
that these little acts of personal revolt
would bring the world, crashing to a halt

for in the end, there’s not much they can do
that they haven’t already put you through
dangled the carrot, and hope you’re cantankerous

we try to make famous friends
we try to make our friends, famous

let this be the start of our revolution
let this be the day that we take it all back
let the writing on the wall be our manifesto
let this be the day we go on the attack

blow winds blow, together we shall go
for to sin, no more on this troubled sh0r-
blow winds blow, together we shall go

- the dead milkmen

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