Mickey is just a fella like you and I
He's made a few quid, still a regular guy
Security guard puts a hand up and smiles
Mickey needs to know that your pockets aren't lined
Jack the lad maverick from a bygone age
And oh, how he longs for the good old days
He's got no time for rules or oppressive red tape
Like contracted hours and the minimum wage
Get off to work and be grateful
Just to put food on the table
With a psychopath streak and a plastic smile
Mickey's one hell of a guy
The white van man can be his own boss today
So load it up, hit the road, get on your way
Don't bother asking after any holiday pay
And if you get sick we're gonna charge you, but hey!
You're the bossman, certainly you don't work for us
We'll argue the case to tribunal and judge
With an army of lawyers, and hundreds of millions
We can silence any differing opinions
Work hard, be grateful
Just to get food on the table
With a psychopath streak and a plastic smile
Profiteers bleeding you dry
Do you ever feel like you've been cheated?
Do you ever feel they got the game rigged?
Disingenuous, quick to villainy
Trying to take, what's left of our dignity
You might just be out of luck
You might have just come unstuck
You might just be shit out of luck
In this, in this rip off world
Cathy took a job, then two, and three
Demanding commitment but offering no guarantees
One day she broke crying
"What about me?
Do I have no right to security?
My three kids at home, who I never do see
Are paying as I'm trying to make ends meet
And all for your lifestyle of sumptuosity
I call it daylight fucking robbery."
