"Earl Sinclair, Roy Hess, B.P. Richfield...And the Workers"

(intro)
"Come on ! I don't feel, in pushing down trees, it's the formalization about reptilians intentions, do you ?
- I don't know !
- Get back to work you lazy grace lamb ! It work all by days ! back job, hands on !"

We're poor slobs with terrible jobs
Boy, we're living crummy lives
An hour to crunch on a wriggly lunch
Courtesy of our scaly wives

"Poor slobs (back to work !)
Terrible jobs" (pushin'down trees !)

We're poor slobs with terrible jobs
Pushin' down a million trees
We're scared to quit
And on top of it
When the climate changes
We'll all freeze

"Poor slobs (i'm coming out there !)
Terrible jobs" (get back to work !)

I could have been a marine biologist
Made friends with all the fishies somehow
Or maybe even an ornithologist
And studied the birds we're evicting now

"Poor slobs (poor slobs)
Terrible jobs (ah ah ah ah)
Poor slobs (nobody care)
Terrible jobs (you're breaking my heart !)"

Poor slobs with terrible jobs
Push 'em and they fall
What'll we do when the work is through
And there aren't any trees at all ?

"Poor slobs (we're downing tree !)
Terrible jobs" (hands on down !)

Sometimes I wonder if it's advisable
To push down forests full of trees
This swamp will hardly be recognizable
Maybe we could spare just a few of these

We're poor slobs with terrible jobs
Someone tell us, please
Is it too late to change our fate
To reverse our destinies ?

Poor slobs
Terrible, terrible, terrible
Terrible, terrible, terrible !
We're just poor slobs