no one really understands the experience that jades logic and paves an agnostic place to lay and decay in toxic waste so most carry identity paraphernalia to familiarize with smiles neatly painted on a robotic face but not this man he played the bucket with his hands and got paid by whatever change people would drop in his can twenty three years ago he was a lawyer by description but i guess all of a sudden he resigned from that position but i ve never seen the sky quite as clear as his eyes as his blistered fingers beat down on the plastic and in a twisted sort of way it all makes sense while they rush to die he provides the soundtrack so tragic he sits on the corner of 7th and 1st and i was thirsty for the answer to a question anyone would nurse one day i asked him why he gave up his career he said i didn t i just took off the name tag then he added make money and die that s the american way it don t matter what name you gave the bucket that you play make money and die that s the american way it don t matter what name you gave the bucket that you play so i took in what was said but i didn t accept it well maybe i did i mean i just wouldn t admit it i was too committed to the belief that all the hard work from now would improve my future existence somehow so i said you don t accomplish nothing sitting in the street and i m sure you barely survive off the pennies you gather he said to your surprise i make enough to eat and i accomplish just as much as you only i stop pretending my job matters he looked me in my face and told me i was a puppet and what i do is no more important than playing a bucket i still hear his voice when i set my alarm before bed i never could wash what he said out of my head so fuck it it goes make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way it don t matter what name you gave the bucket that you play make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way it don t matter what name you gave the bucket that you play see i can dress myself up in a white coat and say i m a doctor carry an arm on my belt buckle with a gold badge and say i m a copper maybe i m just a sloppy lazy crazy carbon copy part of the heartlessly deranged nation that gave me the generation ecstasy under water i forgot the survivor of the mind washed and slaughtered i ve watched your offers caught your calls and called your forefathers my bosses lost it all in the name of gaining enough to spend consuming the youth since those pray in doom for the hand my friends see when i saw my man playing away on his drum something clicked in my brain and i became less numb i m working for bread crumbs pretending there s a meaning but my employment is just a bucket i m desperately beating and one day i ll be old and retired looking at my life like what a waste of good fire all because school never taught me how to be inspired and the job concerned applying to myself just wouldn t hire make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way it don t matter what name you gave the bucket that you play make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way make money and die that s the american way but hey here s my application how much do y all pay2