Clockwork Cash

Punch the clock, but the clock’s a cheat,

Nickel and dime, but the dimes are counterfeit.

We’re oilin’ gears in a machine that’s broke,

Every hour’s a debt that the future owes.

The rent’s a shadow, the bills are a storm,

We’re all just numbers in a spreadsheet form.

We’re all just cogs in a dollar-bill machine,

Chasing a check that’s always one step out of reach.

The system’s a wheel that’s greased with our sweat,

But the pockets are empty where the hope should be kept.

Rent’s a hungry dog, it’s always at the door,

Credit cards bloom like weeds in the floor.

We trade our hours for a pocketful of maybes,

Dancin’ on tightropes tied to yesterday’s paychecks.

The coffee’s cold, but the grind’s still hot,

We’re all just trying to fill a bottomless pot.

We’re all just cogs in a dollar-bill machine,

Chasing a check that’s always one step out of reach.

The system’s a wheel that’s greased with our sweat,

But the pockets are empty where the hope should be kept.

But the sun still rises, even on empty nights,

We’re all just trying to keep the lights on in our lives.

A dollar’s a seed, but the soil’s been paved,

Still we plant our dreams in the cracks we’ve made.

We’re all just cogs in a dollar-bill machine,

Chasing a check that’s always one step out of reach.

The system’s a wheel that’s greased with our sweat,

But the pockets are empty where the hope should be kept.

Tick-tock, we’re clockwork cash,

Burnin’ bright but the flame’s just ash.

Tick-tock, we’re clockwork cash…