Текст, перевод и аккорды “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 [chorus] 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 [chorus] Joo ming boohaaooo
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