| within the pale white walls from 9−5
|
| day after day i feel no more alive
|
| than the stiff that lies the table before me
|
| wake up too early to twist the key
|
| stumble on over to the mr. |
| coffee
|
| pour myself a warm black existence
|
| within the pale white walls from 9−5
|
| day after day i feel so cold inside
|
| like the stiff that lies the table before me
|
| wake up too early to twist the key
|
| stumble on over to the mr. |
| coffee
|
| pour myself a warm black existence
|
| 9−5 at the morgue
|
| overtime for the corpse
|
| hypnotized by the hum of the freezer
|
| hypnotized by the look in your eyes
|
| hypnotized by the pallad cadaver
|
| hypnotized by the look in your eyes
|
| the truth is harsher than you think
|
| its the hair that fills the sink
|
| or the wrinkles around your eyes
|
| until your old and hypnotized
|
| die, draw flies
|
| the end is closer than you think
|
| so pour yourself another drink
|
| and don’t let it get to you
|
| cause that’s exactly what it will do
|
| stich his lips, shut his eyes
|
| 9 to 5 at the morgue |