Sunday's Slave

unday'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