Oil slick in my dinner It makes me sick, in the air anyhow And the dream on my lips Is getting thinner with each day And yet I'm getting paid
I get sick at my work everyday There is no cure but to stay away, without pay And the horns upon my head Are getting thicker with each day I take my meals here I sleep in a maze, alone
Men get sick at their work each and every day There ain't no cure but to stay, stay home today Go to the beach instead And their dreams, in their heads Cannot be found in the maze or so they say