if you stay,
they will hurt you,
although they won't mean to,
it's just their shape.
if you leave,
they'll probably find you,
knowing what you do to escape.
with broken dreams on display,
it's harder to find a way to get them made.
'cause it's no lie,
the bastards will poke you,
scared of what you'll do,
could make them relate.
don't let the bastards grind you down,
reality is what you make it.
don't let the bastards grind you down,
they can't hit what they can't see coming.
if you fail,
you're amusing,
watching others fall makes them tick.
if you quit,
they'll be pleased to forget you,
then put you on re-run once they're nostalgic.
don't let the bastards grind you down,
reality is what you make it.
don't let the bastards grind you down,
they can't hit what they can't see coming.
if it hurts, don't show it.
if it bleeds, then hide it.
if it hurts, don't show it,
give the rest of you ... now!
it's not o.k.! it's not fine!
they will take you in, and then spit you out!
it's not fine! not o.k.!
they will take you in, and then spit you out, again!
don't let the bastards grind you down,
they can't hit what they can't see coming.