| I’m working this day job all week long,
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| With the nine to fivers where I don’t belong.
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| It’s a means to an end and it’s not permanent,
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| When the night comes I start my shift in entertainment.
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| The clock strikes five and there’s no doubt,
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| That the working day is over and I want out.
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| Minimum wage is a maximum pain,
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| But it often typically comes with the trade.
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| Labouring is a drag but gives me the skills,
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| To tour in the van but to still pay my bills.
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| If you graft through the valley of the shadow of shit,
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| You’ll be amazed what you can get if you work hard for it.
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| I’ve been working this day job,
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| With the nine to fivers where I don’t belong.
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| One thing I know is that the bottom of the ocean ain’t too low,
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| To start a punk rock revolution in this disco.
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| And I’ll say, hey hey,
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| Weekday, you’re in my way, move.
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| If my story sounds similar to yours in any way,
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| Working for the man as a slave to low pay.
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| Just know you’re not alone in the way that you feel,
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| And your expression is yours and that no-one can steal.
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| If you’re struggling to get by, to make ends meet.
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| Feeling unimportant or obsolete,
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| Just remember the message in the words in this song,
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| Hum the melody in your head or sing along.
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| I’ve been working this day job,
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| With the nine to fivers where I don’t belong.
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| One thing I know is that the bottom of the ocean ain’t too low,
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| To start a punk rock revolution in this disco.
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| And I’ll say, hey hey,
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| Weekday, you’re in my way. |