When I come home, there is an old guy sitting,
Which means, he is my father, and I also believe, that's him.
We see each other only sometimes and then we don't talk much,
but when we do talk, he says: Boy, you won't do much.
Everything, that you start, you will immediately stop doing.
You will never be able to feed your family, and you won't find a bride.
You must work, you must slave away like me!
CHORUS:
But I don't want to be like my old man. Nope!
I don't want to be like my old man
I want to take a break and not give a damn about motherf*cking money.
I know, if this goes on, I am done with the world.
Work makes life sweet, so sweet like machine oil.
All day I just do things that I don't really want to do,.
I'd really like to throw furniture at my boss.
But I don't get my fist out of pocket, I no longer know what I want.
I want the most to run away from home when there's a quarrell again.
I wait every Monday morning for Friday night.
But my folks say: "You must work, you must slave away like me!"
CHORUS
But my folks say: "You must work, you must slave away like me!"
CHORUS