Presser Diamond Co. - Teddy Hyde

The steel hands in which coal is pressed are

Akin to those on a gold rolex

Without the role of a closing gap

I’ll grow old at the bowl-o-mat

All my coulds can’t adapt to cans if

I’ve got the goods but I lack demand

If I wait for the push of a passive hand

My greatest works will be accidents

But I’m no pro crow, I can only wing it for so long

When I’m low on coal I skip the shipments and go home

I’ll lay and shift in the blaze

If I’m unwilling to praise-

Pressure!

What will be left of my breadcrumb trail?

The P. S. to my flesh E-mail

The brief message my headstone wears

Best be worth all the breath I’ve snared

Are these gems why I don’t fear death?

‘Cause I’ll descend into broken breath

My bones are but local guests

But my soul will be sold and kept

Pressure!

Pressure!

Oh, crush me, oh, crush me, oh crush me alive ‘til I live!

Oh, I’ll let my body die

If my diamonds can survive

Forever

No pressure