One-fifty-one thousand, six hundred people die Every day on Earth And if that's not a reason to cry Well, it's an awful lot of paperwork
It's your first day at work, how've you settled in? Shaken off the rigor mortis? Sorted out your pencil tin? Welcome to our newest resident skeleton What better heaven than a desk to spend forever in?
Now your body may be shrivelled up and worthless At least we know your funeral will be a civil service Persons so superfluous are living on the surface It's nothing so perturbing, we're just trimming off the surplus
It isn't murder if you cause a little accident We prefer to word it as some "mortal middle-management" There's the door, we've got millions of applicants Dying for some corporate incorporeal entanglement
Everything living has to die But to die you need not apply We'll find you when your time's through Take a number, wait in line Live your life and we'll be right behind you Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better get some practice Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better So I guess you'd better
You've got targets to prove yourself Here's some targets, peruse yourself Shoo a few humans off the mortal shelf to the floor We'll be polishing the coffins as you off a couple more
We need a botanist, two paleontologists A newspaper columnist whose views may be communist A shoe salesman, possible balloon hobbyist Just another couple popped clogs for your shopping list
No slacking on the grave packing, ever more to kill Death row deplorables, incurables and "sort of ill" Every person, animal and plant has a form to fill We've got departments solely tasked with killing chlorophyll
So, of course you will toe the lifeline and behave Or you'll be filing dandelions before you've had your tea break Humanity's in balance, if that balance isn't repaid Interns can be inhumed and replaced
Everything living has to die But to die you need not apply We'll find you when your time's through Take a number, wait in line Live your life and we'll be right behind you Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better get some practice Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better So I guess you'd better
Ashes to ashes, nine to five The light in the tunnel has been privatised Robes were so behind the times These obituaries don't give any time for scythes
Population moderation's not the worst fate Your occupation's the salvation of the hearse trade For generations, we've been racing for the first place But we've spent the centuries in second to the birth rate
Everything living has to die But to die you need not apply We'll find you when your time's through Take a number, wait in line Live your life and we'll be right behind you Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better get some practice Nothing's certain but death and taxes So I guess you'd better So I guess you'd better
Dearly indentured We are gathered here today to pay tribute to the life of the departed And to welcome him to the office May he rest employed (Hooray!)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
