| Lyrics |
every day is a Mondayin the house up on the hillthey're taking out the windowsbut we're working up there stilltill the sun goes downyou can hear the wheels go roundand I'll slave awaysaving all I cantill then I'm workingworking for the fat manlooking out the windowas I dream any colored dreamsswaying to the rhythmof the sound of the machinestill the sun goes downyou can hear the wheels go roundbetween you and me
I've taken all I canbut I'm still workingworking for the fat man
I'm never going to work
I'm never going to work for that fat man againbut I'm stuck on the linestuck on the line till I'm sixty-fivehey look out jackgoing to break your backand your face will sagand your bones will cracktill they send you downfor a couple of yearsin shadow townliving without breathingisn't everything it seemsswaying to the rhythmof the sound of machinestill the sun goes downyou can hear the wheels go roundand I'll slave awaysaving all that I cantill then I'm workingworking for the fat man
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