Paroles de Shoulder To The Plow

Progress is a myth If not for he who suffered and Gave himself away at the hands of Fools and lesser men False idols and kings Who came to rule through circumstance Work him like a dog With a ball and chain and thanklessness His dice have been cast No turning back, eyes on the ground Where he will die Feet nailed to the floor Reason to be Shoulder to the plow Facing down He'll see the way He'll never change Watch his slow decay As bottles drain and days go by Forgins his demise Through poison vice to sap the mind Iron was the will Now passions wane and spirits die The weight on his chest Aches in his flesh Dreams of a day that never comes Axe pressed to the wheel Bones ground to dust Shoulder to the plow Ground down into dust for a taste of the Good life, left his dreams, left their hopes behind Work him dead Let him rot