Lyrics

[Verse]
Boots on the ground, mud's my cologne
Paper stack thinner than a wishbone
Boss man barking, voice like a chainsaw
Clock hand creeping slower than a snail crawl

[Chorus]
Hating my job, it’s a ball and chain
Counting every tick, driving me insane
Punch that clock, hear the clatter and chime
Praying for the weekend, freedom ain’t a crime

[Verse 2]
Grease on my hands, paycheck a ghost
Soul getting fried like my breakfast toast
Break room’s colder than a tombstone slab
Dreams on pause, life’s stuck in rehab

[Prechorus]
Sick of this grind, soul’s feeling chewed
Freedom’s a feast, but I’m stuck with fast food

[Chorus]
Hating my job, it’s a ball and chain
Counting every tick, driving me insane
Punch that clock, hear the clatter and chime
Praying for the weekend, freedom ain’t a crime

[Bridge]
Metal strings scream like the gears in my brain
Echo of despair, it’s a factory refrain
Dreaming of a world where my hands ain't tied
Where the skies ain’t gray and my soul’s not fried