Work-Shy - Drug Church

All for shared responsibility

But I’m ducking out of it early

I’m not throwing out my back

I’m not standing in the sun

I’m not fixing my own car

I’m not painting the house

If you wanna see me sweat

Well, you’re gonna need a gun

Work with your hands

Or have them cut off

Work with your hands

Or have them cut off

Work with your hands

Or have them cut off

Work with your hands

Take Marx and Engels

They aren’t the sort of people

Who could sell me an ethos

Old and tired, not so appealing

Many hands make light lifting

But please don’t dare include me

I’m not slaving at the mill

I’m not hanging off a truck

I’m not dying on the line

I’m not eating from a box

And if you wanna see me sweat

Well you’re firmly out of luck

Bent well over your barrel

You lifted up a hill

You’re not losing a finger

You’re not getting black lung

You’re not dying in a mineshaft

I’m not falling off the scaffold

If you wanna see me sweat

Sorry, not a fucking shot