Grindstone Lyrics - March 16-20, 1992 - Uncle Tupelo

If you find yourself standing 

At the end of your line 

Looking for a piece of something 

Maybe a piece of mind 

Fed up, lost, and run down 

Nowhere to hold on 

Tired of, take your place at the end son 

We'll get to you one by one 

No light ever shines 

Dead end tears that dry 

Maybe a waste of words and time 

Never a waste of life 

Every hour will be spent 

Filling a quota, just getting along 

Handcuffs hurt worse 

When you've done nothing wrong 

No thanks to the treadmill 

No thanks to the grindstone 

There's plenty of dissent from 

These rungs below 

The clockwork of destruction 

Hanging low over our heads 

Always a smokestack cloud 

Or a slow-walking death 

No light ever shines 

Dead end tears that dry 

Maybe a waste of words and time 

Never a waste of life 

No thanks to the treadmill 

No thanks to the grindstone 

There's plenty of dissent from 

These rungs below 

The clockwork of destruction 

Hanging low over our heads 

Always a smokestack cloud 

Or a slow-walking death 

No light ever shines 

Dead end tears that dry 

Maybe a waste of words and time 

Never a waste of life 

Maybe a waste of words and time 

Never a waste of life