People I see, they're all the same
So polite, so fucking lame
They tell you to grow up and be a man
Ready to die again and again
You gotta feed the mortician
You gotta take their lives
You gotta feed the mortician
The customers die tonight
Gotta have a job 'till you're 65
Then you get 10 years just to be alive
Drain you dry until you're gone
And your only enjoyment is keeping your lawn
By the time you realize what they've done
You're pulling the trigger on your own gun
Dealing with these yuppies day after day
Gotta make 'em scream, gotta make 'em pay