Texty piesní Battalion of Saints

Battalion of Saints

Beefmasters

They're the meat inspector of the human loin

The Beefmasters hook you and tell you where you are going

They're after your milk vein, need a corporation slave

Hang you on their work hook and break your moral everyday

Beefmasters, Beefmasters, work you to the bone

Where's the ladder to success?

Beefmasters, Beefmasters, know what they want

They want you to suck their dicks

On your way to the slaughter house, they want you in your prime

Work you for a shitty wage and tell you that you could climb

Ain't got no education - puts you in a different line

You wonder what went wrong, you're just a grissel of life

[Chorus]

Fuck the meat run nation, so you try to get away

You don't know what to do, your so used to being told

Beefmasters need a cut, they hold their branding iron

Who'll be the next one in line for the Beefmasters iron?