Weekend Panic

Friday night's gonna kill me dead It'll bury my bones, maybe I'll dig instead Well, either way, I'm in the ground But it's warm with the worms, and the beetles adore me They gnaw at my bones and they chew on my body How nice a purpose I have found And Saturday morning will come with a spade It'll march in the boneyard and dig up my grave And say, "You ain't allowed to die just yet" But Saturday night will repeat the whole show It'll kill me in cold blood, and bury me low In the morning, the soil has set This whole routine's begun to take its toll on me Not even death can set me free