I’m tired of working in a coffin factory   I want the boss to give my life back to me    My paycheck is not big enough to wipe my tears      40 hours a week of monotony    My thoughts get caught in the complex machinery   Throwing dead songs in my ears       And when I pass two lovers in the hot meadows    I wonder if selling flowers is more profitable    I don’t want to build coffins no more      I’m tired of working in a coffin factory   Building boxes to bury humanity    With wood cut from the tombs of liberty      I’m going to walk back from the gate of inferior plans   You can't pick the pocket of a man who’s got no plans   They have taken all that’s left from me      And when I take breath my last breath    I will not breathe it as a merchant of death    I don’t want to build coffins no more