I Object - The Chosen Profession - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Crawling through the doors onto cold floors ?they provide no sympathy for what i feel inside ?just tonight, i gotta get through tonight ?just to crawl back into my cave and die ?we are the bottom of the line ?its not the pride just to survive ?we are the bottom of the line ?retirement not on the mind ?seeing tomorrow would be fine ?feeling used and mentally abused ?is the norm in the chosen profession ?my labor is where it ends ?the eight hours is all you get ?my mind is free my goals are set ?my mind wanders on your time ?your rules my life