Hard Work

I wake up in the morning after Friday night

I'm meeting my friends the eyes still bright

We're not really sober hanging around

We feel like a fucking, bloody dead hound

We take the guitars and the other trash

And drive to the show we're having tonight

The club where we playing is dirty and small

And the owner of this house ain't possible to call

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, but good rock

That's my dream, that's my job

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, but good rock

That's my dream, that's my job

I love this hard work, thank you god

The atmosphere between the crowd is quite down

We're playing the songs fast and loud

Finally we are so happy the concert is finished

The day's been hard but it has not been a rubbish

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, sweaty shirts

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, sweaty shirts

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, but good rock

That's my dream, that's my job

Hard time, hard words

Bad air, but good rock

That's my dream, that's my job

I love this hard work, thank you god