Each morning good humans go off to earn their pay:

The slaughterhouse attendant lines up the meat

Mail carriers walk the streets

And evil trolls steal children's wishes and turn them into feet

But the busiest of them all they say, was Baba D'Day.

Baba D'Day lived at the center of the Earth

And he had eleven hundred arms as long as trees

Eighty-eight eyes to help him see

Plus thirty-five dicks to help him pee

And from his earthbound cradle he made sure the world worked

Have you ever wondered who keeps the trains running on time?

These were the works of Baba D'Day, giving the world reason and rhyme

He tells the sun to set in the west.

He makes the tide rise and writes the aptitude tests.

Keeps the fires burning, the laws of physics going, and the baby birdies sleeping in their nests.

He's jailed encircled in a computerized, steam-powered workstation

Doing his job without want of a paid vacation

No blinking, no bathing, no bathroom break for 500 trillion minutes

Pulling buttons, pushing knobs, and turning switches

Preventing nuclear apocalypse while the President's in between bitches

Every million millennia or so he'd allow for a selfish thought

He left the world to run itself, so he could have his most deserved day off

So come 2000, he settled on a day of rest

And after putting on his Sunday best

He went away to Malibu Beach, where the girls have nice round chests

He dreamed of soft and juggy sand, sexy women to admire

But instead found that without him to run it, the world had gone haywire

Malibu was a metropolitan pyre, blazing beneath a bleeding sky

Now: trees eat steak and you swim in bed; the laws of physics need not apply

The geese are grounded and the ground hogs fly

Mothers bite babies from carriages and swallow them whole

Chuck Barry and Walter Cronkite making love in a cereal bowl

Six billion souls so gripped with fear!

Giddily killed Baba D'Day with pitchforks and spears

He fell to the sand, but with no tide ride him away, he stayed: a monument to sin

And humanity was its own undoing, running on the earth's skin like medieval germs

Eventually burrowing into the ground like worms

Is this their end?  Maybe so.  But the way this cycled life has tendency to turn

Leads me to believe that, in the human spirit of exploration, they might dig far enough to the center of the Earth and find the machines that will start it back up again.

And Baba D'Day received his eternal reward

For so dutifully carrying this torch

After spending his days in spiritual malaise

He went to a land of worship and praise

With a mansion of gold glowing with crystal white rays