The Holy Grail Has A Paycheck In It
written by: Jak Locke
written by: Jak Locke
from Junk Worship (September 12th 2003) (as "The Holy Grail Has A Paycheck In It (Approaching Tide)") (2:06)
Junk Worship will be right back after these messages
Stick me deep with the interest rate I.V.
Tall tales flying on a Wall Street scenery
Fixed fat slob taking treasury tokes
With the corporate additives making him choke
Got a paper box with a hundred rubber checks
With the pole in a hole of degenerate wrecks
Five figure debts from desk learning for days
Learning useless facts about the American way
One more empty, to the breadline he goes
While the bossman's money's going straight up his nose
Application hand cramp futility rights
While the tax man's keeping everyone in his sights
Walking around in the burning cold
Fresh out of grad school and already old
Dancing the sewer with a lice filled comb
In the yellow light district that I call my home
Find your job in a garden of clover
Seven figures on your plastic hangover
Drowning in the liquid of the dollar's weight
In a backwash of the loan percentage interest rates
Seven slots in a roll of twenty-four
Ink on the statement is rotten to the core
Living it up with a gun to your head
With your last sleeping hole in the equity dead
And the trails will choke the names of them who hang their heads in shame
The martyrs with their poison runnin through ya
And we'll be glowing in the sight of your foundations burning bright
With our torches, shouting hallelujah
Stick me deep with the interest rate I.V.
Tall tales flying on a Wall Street scenery
Fixed fat slob taking treasury tokes
With the corporate additives making him choke
Got a paper box with a hundred rubber checks
With the pole in a hole of degenerate wrecks
Five figure debts from desk learning for days
Learning useless facts about the American way
One more empty, to the breadline he goes
While the bossman's money's going straight up his nose
Application hand cramp futility rights
While the tax man's keeping everyone in his sights
Walking around in the burning cold
Fresh out of grad school and already old
Dancing the sewer with a lice filled comb
In the yellow light district that I call my home
Find your job in a garden of clover
Seven figures on your plastic hangover
Drowning in the liquid of the dollar's weight
In a backwash of the loan percentage interest rates
Seven slots in a roll of twenty-four
Ink on the statement is rotten to the core
Living it up with a gun to your head
With your last sleeping hole in the equity dead
And the trails will choke the names of them who hang their heads in shame
The martyrs with their poison runnin through ya
And we'll be glowing in the sight of your foundations burning bright
With our torches, shouting hallelujah
never performed live
outro sampled from "Approaching Tide" (Already Fading On Some Horizon, February 5th 2003)
outro sampled from "Approaching Tide" (Already Fading On Some Horizon, February 5th 2003)