Coffin Factory

I'm tired of working in the coffin factory
I want the boss to give my life back to me
My paycheck's not big enough to wipe my tears
Forty hours a week of monotony
My thoughts get caught in the cogs of machinery
Droning death songs in my ears

And when I pass two lovers in the hospital
I wonder if selling flowers might be more profitable
I don't want to build coffins no more

Tired of working in a coffin factory
Building boxes to bury humanity
With wood cut from the trees of liberty
I'm gonna walk backwards out the gates of this dreary plant
You can't pick the pocket of a man who's got no pants
They've taken all they'll get from me

And when I breathe my last breath
I will not breathe it as a merchant of death
I don't want to build coffins no more