Lyrics Fulfilment Centre - Richard Dawson

Fulfilment Centre

Over and over and over and over
Again and again and again and again and again
Three hundred units per hour
Hour after hour after hour
Please adjust your packing-rate accordingly
An endless array of tat for us to pick
Stretching and reaching and crouching and bending over
Three hundred units per hour
Hour after hour after hour
Please adjust your packing-rate accordingly
Increase productivity!
Increase productivity!
Increase productivity!
My body hurts all over but I must keep on working
To meet all my quotas or I may face the sack
Stretching, crouching, reaching, bending
Stretching, crouching, reaching, bending
Bedding and power tools, tablets and football shirts
Perfume and Blu-Ray discs, jewelry and dehumidifiers
I am desperate for the toilet
But if I go, I’ll miss my targets
All I can do is pee in a bottle
They treat us like animals here
There’s nothing left of me
By the time I shuffle homeward
On the early morning train
To eat a little breakfast and sleep a while
Before it starts again
Ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh
A young lad trying to make some cash in the Christmas rush
Fell asleep on his feet and was asked not to return
Three hundred units per hour
Hour after hour after hour
A lady in her mid to late fifties keeled over
And started convulsing and frothing at the mouth
Three hundred units per hour
Hour after hour after hour
A gentleman who spoke little English
Started to scream at the top of his lungs
No one could understand what he was getting at
Everyone stared ahead and kept working until
Someone came from on high to escort him from the building
Increase productivity!
Increase productivity!
Increase productivity!
PlayStations, Xboxes, Nintendo Wiis
Microwaves, toasters, espresso machines
Brollies and snooker cues
Hoovers and paint
Trainers and tarot cards (Stretching, crouching, reaching, bending)
Dash-cams and wall-art (Stretching, crouching, reaching, bending)
Lego and shaving foam, onesies and retractable extension leads
I’ve been given compulsory overtime over the holidays
Now I can’t go to see my family in Galashiels 'til the new year
There’s nothing left of me by the time I shuffle homeward
On the early morning train
To eat a little breakfast and sleep a while
Before it starts again
There’s more, there has to be
More to life than killing yourself to survive
One day, I’m going to run my own cafe
Ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh