My job now is no more;
The boss has slam’d the door;
What shall I do?
Seems like my end is near;
My guts feel awful queer;
Where do we go from here?
This is up to you.
No, I’ve not lost a leg;
Why must I starve and beg?
What shall I do?
Where can the answer lurk?
Why am I out of work,
Gazing on all this murk?
This is up to you.
I cannot stand alone;
Masters have laid me prone;
What shall I do?
Why can’t we, hand in hand,
Reclaim our right to stand,
Unhorse the sleek brigand?
This is up to you.
The boss has slam’d the door;
What shall I do?
Seems like my end is near;
My guts feel awful queer;
Where do we go from here?
This is up to you.
No, I’ve not lost a leg;
Why must I starve and beg?
What shall I do?
Where can the answer lurk?
Why am I out of work,
Gazing on all this murk?
This is up to you.
I cannot stand alone;
Masters have laid me prone;
What shall I do?
Why can’t we, hand in hand,
Reclaim our right to stand,
Unhorse the sleek brigand?
This is up to you.
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