There used to be a time boy, right before you born
People were stuck in the storm morn getting in the train
For everything they did they served the grateful company
This monthly salary that makes the kids happy
Now go to the windows then take a look at the shadows
Of hundred thousands men yelling out under the rain with
Stain on their hands and chains around their brain
Life is just a game in which you have to protect your flame
Salary men under the train the only day they didn't faint
I guess the stain on their hands has been removed by the saints
They drain their brains no more complaint but it's none on my concern
Unless the end of their reign affect the way I entertain
Stain on their hands dripping to my brain
They've got stain on their hands dripping to my brain