Work Song

Deliver the paper deliver the porn
 Deliver the baker deliver the morn
 A quiverin' jibberin' shiverin' mass
 Of sunshine and good times that I have to pass
 On the way to my job on the way to my work
 On the way to that slobberin' hoverin' jerk
 Who's my boss today
 Who's my boss to stay
 Who's my supervisor when I'm in my grave
 A slave on the run still under the gun
 Of Attila the Hun with a cinnamon bun
 I don't know son, was there somethin' I missed
 I don't think Fritz Lang was a fantasist
 Metropolis exists is this
 If you listen close you can hear the piss
 Every day's another loss
 Need the pay so please the boss
 Through the sludge they mingle by the mile
 Every worker looks ahead
 Ah the kiddies must be fed
 So they trudge along in single file
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 And you turn and you toil
 And you burn and you boil
 In the tourniquet coil
 Of the white folks' soil
 Spoilin' with a malaise worse than disses or dope
 Wakin' up in a haze
 With your wishes and hopes
 And your poor little dreams
 All wrapped up in burlap
 That you carry around
 For a sniff or a snack
 Or a taste in your haste
 To get right back on track
 Outta whack with the pack
 But acquiring the knack
 Of ignoring the rustle
 That quietly seethes
 The hustle, the buy-it
 The air that you breathe
 Every day's another loss
 Need the pay so please the boss
 Through the sludge they mingle by the mile
 Every worker looks ahead
 Ah the kiddies must be fed
 So they trudge along in single file
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 Joo ming boohaaooo
 Every day's another loss
 Need the pay so please the boss
 Through the sludge they mingle by the mile
 Every worker looks ahead
 Ah the kiddies must be fed
 So they trudge along in single file
 Every day's another loss
 Need the pay so please the boss
 Through the sludge they mingle by the mile
 Every worker looks ahead
 Ah the kiddies must be fed
 So they trudge along in single file
 Every day's another loss
 Need the pay so please the boss
 Through the sludge they mingle by the mile
 Every worker looks ahead
 Ah the kiddies must be fed
 So they trudge along in single file