Arms Aloft - West Grand Ave. Maria lyrics

Blessed, we're told, are the fruits of our labors. Bootstraps, our saviors and so hail the hours we've sold. And these rooms that we rent, in hopes that they can defend us from the cold of the world we've been compelled to buid. ...That they stop at nothing to keep us from. To keep us broke, keep us dumb and scared And on what grounds? But the fetishized words of slave-owners and spent rounds So embrace decay, Hail the growth unsustainable. Find values unexchangeable and take another inch back each day Here's to hoping this place will be ours on our dying day