Christ, another weekend gone
Another Monday looking for a job
What's the odds on getting
work of any kind
Finding a job, any kind of a job
Anything
Fed up to the teeth with doing nothing
Fed up with scroungin' for a liv in'
If you can call it a livin'
Lady please, give me a job
Mis ter , I'm willing to work,
just try me
I'll sweep the streets, I'll shovel shit
I'll do a bit of anythin'
Willin' to turn me hand to anything, anything, anything,
anything, anything.
Are they deaf?
The bastards didn't seem to hear me
Looking for a job
What's the odds of chanting a million?
More like one in three million
That's if they're telling the truth
Cooking the books more likely
Sick of being on the outside in the street
Sick of being last in the queue
Sick of being looked through
as if I'm not there
The original Invisible Man
Lady, give me a job
For Christ's sake, mister,
give me a job
Not just a scheme, it's a job that I need
Not just filling in time, filling up holes
playing with waste and the chipboard sawdust won't fill up the holes in me days in my life
saw dust won't help me to live with me wife, with me kid, with me
It's work that I need,
and cash in the hand
at the end of the week.
Ah, another twelve months gone,
was the user looking for a job.
What's that a show,
where did it go, and how?
Frittered away on the box,
the box is eating my life.
Tired of the bickering rows,
Ashamed of the things that I say,
I'm tired of being ashamed.
Disgusted with the smell
of the scrapheap
An d scared of the thoughts
that come into me head
Jesus, I wish I was
Unless you're one of the walking dead
You don't know what it's like
And I don't need some
tallow -faced git
Some callous shit from Bastard Bill
To tell me to get on me bike
Lady, give me a job
Not next year, mister, but now
Give me a job
I'm at the end of me tether
Give me a job, or I'll get on my bike
And tear your stinking world apart!