Lefty/Clockwork

I move the steel grate across my chest
Because it's real
But the blood stays in my skin
Like something else is trapped inside me

Sitting in traffic on the daily grind
But somewhere i got to draw the line
What's the point in this fucking rat race
I want to shoot myself in the fucking face
Media media
Think for yourself
Media media
They call this wealth?
Media media
They feed it to us
Media media
And we eat it all up