|
Oh, my sweet love |
|
He built a rotary cuff |
|
His shoulder got smashed |
|
He's gotta mend and repair a device |
|
To work where he got hit by the blast |
|
Oh, woe is he |
|
Unable to see in front of his face |
|
A mistreated machine can start acting mean |
|
It can crack up all over the place |
|
Oh, injury |
|
What a nasty wound |
|
Here, let me see |
|
If you put metal inside of a man |
|
He can work much faster than you can |
|
With a toothpick, a penknife, a can opener |
|
Oh, injury |
|
One kind of folk, they don't know it's broke |
|
The others don't care |
|
They just sit and complain about some imagined pain |
|
About some uncle who fell down the stairs "Since he got hurt He don't go to work We try to get by He just sits in his chair with a glazed-over stare We can't help but ask ourselves why" |
|
Oh, injury |
|
Oh, injury |
|
Oh, injury |
|
What a nasty wound |
|
Here, let me see |
|
If you put metal inside of a man |
|
He can work much faster than you can |
|
With a toothpick, a penknife, a can opener |
|
Oh, injury |
