every day is a Monday

in the house up on the hill

they're taking out the windows

but we're working up there still

till the sun goes down

you can hear the wheels go round

and I'll slave away

saving all I can

till then I'm working

working for the fat man



looking out the window

as I dream any colored dreams

swaying to the rhythm

of the sound of the machines

till the sun goes down

you can hear the wheels go round

between you and me

I've taken all I can

but I'm still working

working for the fat man



I'm never going to work

I'm never going to work for that fat man again

but I'm stuck on the line

stuck on the line till I'm sixty-five

hey look out jack

going to break your back

and your face will sag

and your bones will crack

till they send you down

for a couple of years

in shadow town



living without breathing

isn't everything it seems

swaying to the rhythm

of the sound of machines

till the sun goes down

you can hear the wheels go round

and I'll slave away

saving all that I can

till then I'm working

working for the fat man