lirik lagu david bridie & matt quartermaine - the laundry man
[verse 1]
~clears throat~
when the pandemic hit, i was working in the laundry at an aged care home with bec, a thirty~two~year~old shirley temple emo with a heart of gold. we call bec “the laundry detective” because she can find a missing nightie in a day
“what are you doin’?” asks bec. “i can’t tell if this bra is dry,” says i. “maybe don’t test it on your cheek,” says bec. “it looks kind of creepy”
[refrain]
i’m your laundry man, that’s what i am
i’m your laundry man
[verse 2]
when the pandemic hit, i was workin’ with laurel, forty~five~year~old twenty~year laundry vet, the hardest working person on the planet, mother of two, wife of one, and who still cannot afford to buy a home
laurel has turned a life of adversity into kindness and wisdom. “we just smile and do our job,” says laurel, her hands folding face washers like an origami master as i stack towels like a two~year~old playing jenga
[verse 3]
when the pandemic hit, the oldies were isolated in their tiny rooms for months at a time, so they played bingo from their doorways, the corridor a sea of comfortable footwear
“thirty~four, three and four!” says the caller. “my age!” says i. “bullsh~t!” says faye, with a wit drier than the linen i carried, as counters bounced on numbered trays and slippered feet jiggled with delight
[refrain]
i’m your laundry man, can’t somebody else do what i can?
lau—lau—laundry man
[verse 4]
when the pandemic hit, changing your ppe was like playing that game, “the floor is lava,” only everything was lava. the cleaners dropped off their dirty cloths and mops at the end of the day, eyes watering, throats sore and heads throbbing with migraines after cleaning with bleach all day
“if we said we were stressed, we could stay home and earn more money on jobkeeper,” says laurel, quickly becoming my life coach
[verse 5]
when the pandemic hit, we became frontline heroes. our superpower is being completely invisible
[refrain]
i’m your laundry man, ask someone else
[outro]
givenchy, target, fella hamilton
black pepper, anko, yeah, yeah, yeah
there’s too many of you, not enough of me
oh, my glasses have fogged up again. i can’t breathe in this mask! well, i can, but i—i don’t like it. alright? what?
ah, it’s my back. it’s the—ugh
you know what i hate? f~ckin’ management ~coughs~
suck my dong, management. thank you
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