On the outskirts of town where brutish new houses rush up to meet you
On treeless streets, a freeway wind blowing, no soul to greet you
Oh hell, it is here, if you open the door
But you won’t feel a thing if you shut the blinds and flick on the screen
We are sold
If we work hard we’ll reap the rewards
And we work hard and never look up
But the hard work is never enough
In the sight of the mansion at night
Windows glowing behind high fences bright
And down in the alleys the cardboard house
They put up a fight
Maggie’s on the bus to her 2nd job in the city sweeping up
How many breaths, how many hours just to keep up
We are sold
If we work hard we’ll reap the rewards
And we work hard and never look up
But the hard work is never enough
Can we do what we love
Can we do what we love
Can we do what we love and love what we do
Can we do what we love and love what we do
Can we do what we love
Can we love
Can we love
Can we love
We are sold
If we work hard we’ll reap the rewards
And we work hard and never look up
But the hard work is never enough