1, 2, 3, 4

Never wanted more
From my local store
A chance to be by myself
Be on the right side of the shelf
For every drink I serve
Sure wish I had callous nerve
For every sandwich, I know
There's a sack of shit to be dosed

I wash my hands in shame
Four thousand times a day
When I make it on home
There's a smell that always stays
I know the regulars well
From every stale grill I sell
From bain-maries to cold tea
I'm the service that you need

And there's a poison in my drink
It's gonna take each good thought I could think
There's a poison, I know

Wash my hands in shame
Four thousand times a day
While I service your greed
I'm just dying to be clean