Trabajando para Dios

Looking for a job under every rock,
tired of knocking on every door,
sick of appointments with sleazy guys
who ignore you like a leper.
And you respond to all the ads,
fill out absurd forms,
leave your information, no one calls you back
and you collect pats on the back.
And at home, the same old talk:
"Lazy, good-for-nothing," yells the old lady,
"This is not a spa.
See if you can finally earn your keep."
Until one day when you're at home
looking out the window at the people passing by,
you notice, attentively,
the dirty nuns from the convent across the street,
how well they live, how much fun they have
doing nothing without lifting a finger.
And, hallelujah!, the light bulb goes off:
this company wasn't on my list.
How foolish I've been, now I get it,
there's never unemployment in the Church.
I've seen the light, hip, hip, hooray!
My future lies in being a priest.
Pray for us, yeah!
Pray for us, yeah, yeah!
And I spend many years in seminary,
eating, sleeping, and praying.
I memorize the Holy Gospels,
sing, meditate, and sometimes jerk off.
Until they examine me and approve me as a priest,
they give me a collar, a uniform,
extra pay, a month of vacation,
my parish, my chalice, and my four poor souls.
Working, working for God.
Now I'm the one giving out the communion wafers.
And I work like crazy for a huge
multinational company that never goes bankrupt.
I give blessings, deflower altar boys,
grope old ladies and pocket the donations.
One boss, one union,
CEO: the Holy Spirit.
So if you don't want to stay unemployed,
learn to make a living by praying.
Pray for us, yeah!
Pray for us, yeah, yeah!
Working, working for God.
Now I'm the one giving out the communion wafers.