Bruce McCulloch

Dayjob kills man's spirit
Cookies and cakes cheer him back up
If I'm working near you
Punch me out when I die

This is my warehouse prayer
Let it waft across the boxes
To the workers and the walkers
This is my warehouse prayer

Hawk on my shoulder as I drive
I'm naked on the forklift
Sometimes things get kind of strange
When you work the night shift

This is my warehouse prayer
Don't make me pay for coffee
I haven't seen the sky
Since I started this job

Girls I didn't sleep with in high school
Seem more pleasant
Than the one
I'm living with now

Soft rock from the corner
Can only be heard when the machines aren't on
But you'll never hear it
Because the machines are always on

Dayjobs kill men's spirit
Cookies and cakes cheer him back up
If I'm working near you
Punch me out when I die

This is my warehouse prayer
Days without an accident: six
A simple ? prayer
I want my Saturdays back

This is supposed to be a summer job
This is my warehouse prayer