I got no time for you time
I got no time
I got no time for you, Mr. Slavedriver
You shout out your directions from the back of a coach
You look just like a shriveled, overgrown cockroach
You always act the same
And if you had your way
I'd work the hardest and you'd get the most
A fraction of your loot would pay my yearly wage
You ruin lives as easy as I turn a page
I hate your mocking bray
I hear it every day
I've got about as much compassion for the Bubonic Plague
Go away, Mr. Slavedriver
Don't want no more Slavedriver

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