Text: Rasputina. Frustration Plantation. Oh Injury..

Oh, my sweet love
He built a rotary cuff


His shoulder got smashed

He's gotta mend and repair a device

To work where he got hit by the blast




Oh, woe is he
Unable to see in front of his face
A mistreated machine can start acting mean


It can crack up all over the place





Oh, injury
What a nasty wound


Here, let me see




If you put metal inside of a man
He can work much faster than you can

With a toothpick, a penknife, a can opener


Oh, injury




One kind of folk, they don't know it's broke

The others don't care

They just sit and complain about some imagined pain


About some uncle who fell down the stairs



"Since he got hurt

He don't go to work

He just sits in his chair with a glazed-over stare
We try to get by



We can't help but ask ourselves why"


Oh, injury



Oh, injury



Oh, injury



What a nasty wound
Here, let me see




If you put metal inside of a man
He can work much faster than you can


With a toothpick, a penknife, a can opener



Oh, injury