Twenty four hours in a day
You’d think time enough for work sleep and play
I’ve got to work because work’s my way
but working all hours is turning me gray
I like to load it on it’s true
Far beyond what I get paid to do
Work and work till my face turns blue
I feel the work piling up between me and you
I’ve got to slow down don’t know if I can
Work work work I’m just that kind of man
I hope you’re patient hope you understand
I hope somewhere in all the work is a plan
Form and function what am I good for
If work is a prison then what makes a door
Work to exhaustion and sleep on the floor
ain’t it ironic that I’m still poor
Someday I guess that I’ll be done
one way or another just like anyone
I can’t say exactly what makes me run
Wish I could say that it’s been fun
You can read an explanation of the origin of these lyrics here
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