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9 To 5 At The Morgue

Dog Fashion Disco

Anarchists Of Good Taste


9 to 5 At The Morgue.
Within the pale white walls,
From 9 to 5
Day after day
I feel no more alive,
Than the stiff that lies the table before me.

Wake up too early to twist the key.
Stumble on over to the Mr. Coffee.
Pour myself a warm black existence.

We抮e 9 to 5.
Within the pale white walls,
From 9 to 5
Day after day
I feel so cold inside.
Like the stiff that lies the table before me.

Wake up too early to twist the key.
Stumble on over to the Mr. Coffee.
Pour myself a warm black existence.

9 to 5 at the morgue,
Overtime for the corpse.
Hypnotised by the hum of the freezer.
Hypnotised by the look in your eyes.
Hypnotised by the pallid cadaver.
Hypnotised by the look in your eyes.

9 to 5.

The truth is harsher than you think.
It抯 the hair that fills the sink.
Or the wrinkles around your eyes,
Until you抮e old and hypnotised.
9 to 5.

Die and die.
Die and draw flies.
Die and die.
Die and draw flies.

This day is never going to end for me.

The end is closer than you think.
So pour yourself another drink.
And don抰 let it get to you,
慍os that抯 exactly what it will do.
9 to 5.

Die and die.
Die and draw flies.
Die and die.
Die and draw flies.

Wake up too early to twist the key.
Stumble on over to the Mr. Coffee.
Pour myself a warm black existence.

9 to 5 at the morgue,
Overtime for the corpse.
Hypnotised by the hum of the freezer.
Hypnotised by the look in your eyes.
Hypnotised by the pallid cadaver.
Hypnotised by the look in your eyes.

Stitch his lips and shut his eyes.
9 to 5 at the morgue.

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