.Nångång ska det väl vara min tur å komma härifrån.
Jag står, fast här i min lera vill bara komma igång.
Jag har gjort min tid i golvet, i en skitig stor fabrik.
Vem vill jobba som en zombie, supa bort sin lediga helg?
Det kliar i min kropp, fan måste allting gå så sak.
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