Death Of a Salesman

This is the final countdown
The hands on the clock
Become the hands upon your throat
Take a hard look at your time card
Add up all the hours
The weeks, the months and years
Think of all the time that you’ve sold away
Of all the smiles, laughter and passion
You’ve left behind

One of many, you file into the lines
Your hopes and dreams diminished
Is it worth what you’re being given?
Can all the moments torn away ever be replaced?
Is the one life you’ve been given
All going to waste?

Success is meaningless if you’ve sold your soul to accomplish it
All the money in the world won’t be able to lift this weight from your chest

This is the final countdown
The hands on the clock
Become the hands upon your throat

Neckties are like the subtle noose
Hanging from the gallows
Swaying in the winds of progress
A lifetime of subservience
Swept away by this
Hurricane of deception

One of many, you file into the lines
Your hopes and dreams diminished
Is it worth what you’re being given?
Can all the moments torn away ever be replaced?
Is the one life you’ve been given
All going to waste?

The hands on the clock
Are the hands on your throat