Sunday's got a slave. Monday's got one too. Sunday's got a slave. Monday's got one too. Our sufferings are countless. Our pleasures are motley few. Spend all day digging my grave. Now go get Sunday's slave. Tuesday sleeps in a stable. Wednesday's in a chains. Tuesday gathers up the crumbs under the table. Wednesday dare not complain. My heart has collapsed on the tracks of a run-a-way train. Just whisper his name. And here comes Sunday's slave. The hands in the stable are willing and able to pay. If you feel at a loss man just who is the boss-man. Ask the blood of one of its bad days. For his nerve is to serve but the sevice is a mockery. He insists that he piss in your fist. But he still takes the money anyway. The master's a bastard. But don't tell Sunday's slave. Thursday's angered the master. O.K. so Friday's gonna pay. Thursday's angered the master. Yeah so Friday's gonna pay. One night on the rack and he's back saddling up Saturday. You can only whisper his name. But not on Sundays. Never on Sundays.