The Graveyard Shift

THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT

Am . . . . . . . . . . . . . . D
The sky is cloudy and gray,
. . . . . . . Am . . . . . . . . . . . . . . D
And I'm sitting here waiting for day,
. . . . . . Am . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . D
For the man to come to give me my pay

. . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . E . . Am

For workin' the graveyard shift

I'm workin' the graveyard shift

The hours don't go by so swift

When you're workin' the graveyard shift.

Well, I'm cutting up fingers and fries
With the cockroaches and flies
And the greasy smoke gets in your eyes

When you're workin' the graveyard shift

I'm workin' the graveyard shift

My fingers are swollen and stiff

From workin' the graveyard shift

Well, the weirdos come out of the walls.
They ooze over counters and stalls.
They're fightin' and gettin' in brawls

While you're workin' the graveyard shift

I'm workin' the graveyard shift

They all look like Montgomery Clift

When you're workin' the graveyard shift

And the truckers they come and they go.
The hours they all pass so slow.
What I'm doing here, I just don't know.

I'm just workin' the graveyard shift

I'm workin' the graveyard shift

Hey, Mack, won't you give me a lift?

Take me out of this graveyard shift

So I'm leaving for New Orleans
In my tee shirt and beatup old jeans.
I'm sick of this old graveyard scene.

I'm leavin' the graveyard shift

Yes, I'm quittin' the graveyard shift

Take this job and shove it off of a cliff

'Cause I'm quittin' the graveyard shift

Yes, I'm through with the graveyard shift.

Feel free to perform this song in public, as long as you mention who wrote it. (A mention of the CD, Songs Without Wisdom, and the fact that it can purchased from www.cdbaby.com/carrington would be appreciated too.) If you want to record it, however, you will have to cross my palm with silver. My brother-in-law comes from Sicily.