| There's a dirty little town on the east side of a city made of plastic gold | |
| Where the the old come to die and the young have to dig all the holes | |
| They take their dirty little lies to grave with 'em | |
| That they brought along in luggage with no names on 'em | |
| And leave behind boxes filled with all their souls | |
| Crushing us in this black hole | |
| In this black.. | |
| Its our time to take it back | |
| Beat the walls until the crack | |
| Burn the city to the ground | |
| Look in every damn direction for a way out from the wall of people closing in | |
| Reaching for my pockets taking every single penny they can | |
| They got their fat fingers stuck inside the pocket of | |
| People doing anything to make a buck | |
| Taking every opportunity they can to hurt us | |
| Then complaining that we don't trust! | |
| No we shouldn't trust them.. | |
| Its our time to take it back | |
| Beat the walls until the crack | |
| Burn the city to the ground | |
| Its our time to take it back | |
| Beat the walls until the crack | |
| Burn the city to the ground | |
| In the middle of a one horse | |
| Everybody knows me | |
| Telling my business town. | |
| In the middle of a dead stop | |
| Traffic jam city. | |
| Doing everything to keep me down | |
| In the back of a line of people | |
| Waiting for death to come | |
| So I'm skipping to the front | |
| So I can show'em how it's done | |
| Its our time to take it back | |
| Beat the walls until the crack | |
| Burn the city to the ground |
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