Work song

Deliver the paper deliver the porn Deliver the baker deliver the morn A quiverin' jibberin' shiverin' mass Of sunshine and good times that I have to pass On the way to my job on the way to my work On the way to that slobberin' hoverin' jerk Who's my boss today Who's my boss to stay Who's my supervisor when I'm in my grave A slave on the run still under the gun Of Attila the Hun with a cinnamon bun I don't know son, was there somethin' I missed I don't think Fritz Lang was a fantasist Metropolis exists is this If you listen close you can hear the piss