Oh I know my job's just working in a store
I've got an L on my forehead and a stupid uniform
It's 7/11, it's twenty-four seven
I'm the night shift guru, made to serve you
How do you do
And I'm watching myself performing on tv
And it's an 8 by 5, 7/11 screen
And I'm punching in potato chips
And sugared water and cigarettes and dream magazines
Flourescent ceiling light, well it's alright in the day
But it lights the nighttime like a freak show parade
Grandmothers and lovers, kid brothers bus drivers and who*es
But they're looking for more, they're looking for more
And I'm watching myself performing on tv
And it's an 8 by 5, 7/11 screen
And I'm punching in potato chips
And sugared water and cigarettes and dream magazines
Presidents and condiments and cheese
Squeeze 'em hard and what you get is grease
And I'm punching in anti-freeze and condoms and processed cheese
And me here to please