One-fifty-one thousand, six hundred people die

Every day on Earth

And if that′s not a reason to cryWell, it's an awful lot of paperwork

It′s your first day at work, how've you settled in?

Shaken off the rigor mortis? Sorted out your pencil tin?

Welcome to our newest resident skeleton

What better heaven than a desk to spend forever in?

Now your body may be shrivelled up and worthless

At least we know your funeral will be a civil service

Persons so superfluous are living on the surface

It's nothing so perturbing, we′re just trimming off the surplus

It isn′t murder if you cause a little accident

We prefer to word it as some "mortal middle-management"

There's the door, we′ve got millions of applicants

Dying for some corporate incorporeal entanglement

Everything living has to die

But to die you need not apply

We'll find you when your time′s through

Take a number, wait in line

Live your life and we'll be right behind you

Nothing′s certain but death and taxes

So I guess you'd better get some practice

Nothing's certain but death and taxes

So I guess you′d better

So I guess you′d better

You've got targets to prove yourself

Here′s some targets, peruse yourself

Shoo a few humans off the mortal shelf to the floor

We'll be polishing the coffins as you off a couple more

We need a botanist, two paleontologists

A newspaper columnist whose views may be communist

A shoe salesman, possible balloon hobbyist

Just another couple popped clogs for your shopping list

No slacking on the grave packing, ever more to kill

Death row deplorables, incurables and "sort of ill"

Every person, animal and plant has a form to fill

We′ve got departments solely tasked with killing chlorophyll

So, of course you will toe the lifeline and behave

Or you'll be filing dandelions before you′ve had your tea break

Humanity's in balance, if that balance isn't repaid

Interns can be inhumed and replaced

Everything living has to die

But to die you need not apply

We′ll find you when your time′s through

Take a number, wait in line

Live your life and we'll be right behind you

Nothing′s certain but death and taxes

So I guess you'd better get some practice

Nothing′s certain but death and taxes

So I guess you'd better

So I guess you′d better

Ashes to ashes, nine to five

The light in the tunnel has been privatised

Robes were so behind the times

These obituaries don't give any time for scythes

Population moderation's not the worst fate

Your occupation′s the salvation of the hearse trade

For generations, we′ve been racing for the first place

But we've spent the centuries in second to the birth rate

Everything living has to die

But to die you need not apply

We′ll find you when your time's through

Take a number, wait in line

Live your life and we′ll be right behind you

Nothing's certain but death and taxes

So I guess you′d better get some practice

Nothing's certain but death and taxes

So I guess you'd better

So I guess you′d better

Dearly indentured

We are gathered here today to pay tribute to the life of the departed

And to welcome him to the office

May he rest employed

(Hooray!)