| Open your eyes, time to wake up
|
| Shit, shower, brush your teeth, drain your cup
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| Wolf down a bowl of Ready-Brek
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| Fasten a tie around your neck
|
| All over the city we arise, arise
|
| For a job we despise, despise, despise
|
| I don’t want to go into work this morning
|
| I don’t think I can deal with the wrath of the general public
|
| And I don’t have the heart to explain to another poor soul
|
| Why it is their Disability Living Allowance will be stopping shortly
|
| Busfulls of meat slumped in our seats
|
| Staring at phone screens and our own feet
|
| Shuffling off at the business park
|
| Let’s linger awhile in the smoking bubble
|
| From every direction we arrive, arrive
|
| With a swipe of the fob, the fob, the fob, the fob
|
| I don’t want to go back to that seething viper’s nest
|
| I can’t listen anymore to the bleating of the terminally depressed
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| Or the stream of opinions from the creep in the office next to mine
|
| I dream of bashing his skull into a brainy pulp with a Sellotape dispenser
|
| In the staff room, lost in a daze
|
| Shovelling crisps into my face
|
| After an unspeakably awful
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| Call with a grieving mother
|
| In Wetherspoons on the fruit-machines
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| Sinking my umpteenth Peroni
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| Cackling like a hyena
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| At the nasty jokes of my colleagues
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| None of whom I can stand
|
| In my bed, I can hear the strangled voices
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| Of all the people I’ve failed, I’ve failed, I’ve failed
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| I don’t want to go into work this morning
|
| I just want to lie here and play the new Call of Duty
|
| I finally gathered the courage to ring in sick
|
| I’m not coming into work today
|
| I’m really ill
|
| Not coming into work today
|
| Or for that matter any other day
|
| I’m sick to my soul
|
| I refuse to do this dirty work anymore
|
| I refuse, refuse, refuse, refuse
|
| Refuse, refuse, refuse |