Lyrics

[Intro: Mr. Burns & Mr. Smithers] Smithers Hm? Turn on the surveillance monitors Yes, sir! Hm, it's worse than I thought [Verse 1: Mr. Burns] Each morning at nine, they trickle through the gate They go home early, they come in late Reeking of cheap liquor, they stumble through the day Never give a thought to honest work for honest pay I know it shouldn't vex me, I shouldn't take it hard I know I should ignore their capering with a kingly disregard, but [Chorus: Mr. Burns] Look at all those idiots, oh, look at all those boobs An office full of morons, a factory full of fools Is it any wonder that I'm singing, singing the blues? [Verse 2: Mr. Burns] They make personal phone calls on company time They Xerox their buttocks and guess who pays the dime! Their blatant thievery wounds me their ingratitude astounds! I long to lure them to my home and then release the hounds! I shouldn't grow unsettled when faced with such abuse I shouldn't let it plague me, I shouldn't blow a fuse, but [Chorus: Mr. Burns] Look at all those idiots, oh, look at all those boobs An office full of morons, a factory full of fools Is it any wonder that I'm singing, singing the blues? [Breakdown: Mr. Burns & Mr. Smithers] What happened? Where are the instruments? I believe they call this a breakdown, sir I can't have any breakdowns here! What if there was an inspector around? Play a guitar solo Oh, I'm a little out of practice, sir I said, "Do it!" So, do it, do it, do it Yes, sir (Guitar Solo) Ah-ha Hahaha Yes, excellent, well done All right, it's beginning to grate That'll be sufficient, Smithers Excuse me? I said, that's enough! Oh! Sorry, sir Thought I had my mojo working Humph That man by the cooler drinking water, as if it's free Oh, that's Homer Simpson, sir A drone from sector 7-G Yes, well, call this Simpson to my office and stay to watch the fun If he's six feet when he enters, he'll be two feet when I'm done Hahahaha It brings a ray of sunshine to my unhappy life To make him kneel before me and slowly twist the knife [Chorus: Mr. Burns, Mr. Smithers] Look at all those idiots, oh, look at all those boobs An office full of morons, a factory full of fools Is it any wonder that I'm singing, singing the blues? Take me home, sir I'm trying Surrounded by idiots, outnumbered by boobs An office full of morons, a planet full of fools Is it any wonder, I'm singing (Maybe you should be singing, sir) Oh, singing the blu-u-ues [Outro: Mr. Smithers, Mr. Burns] Look at all those idiots Mr. Burns, you, you make Muddy Waters sound shallow and cheerful by comparison (An office full of morons) Thank you, Smithers Meaningless, but, heartfelt compliment (Is it any wonder) I feel like I got a few things off my chest And onto the chests of my inferiors You did (Look at all those idiots) Why are they still playing? Um... (Office full of morons) They're not still on salary, are they? We're not validating their parking, sir (Is it any wonder) They're playing for their own coffee, now