Sunday morning 9 o'clock Emma sorts the chicken's out

She turned to me and said Do what you have to

So I wandered down to fetch them out

Been asleep all night but they'll soon thaw out

Tell me if they came to life

Would they turn around and say

It's hard to be a fish at the Co-op on the deli

Laid out in the cold like a crime scene off the tele

Wishing the day away watching the people stare

And wondering 'Does anybody want me'

It gets to 3 o'clock and we've sold a few

The others look a little blue

It's hard to see your siblings sold before you

But the time has come to go to sleep

Packed beneath an icy sheet

Tomorrow will they turn around and say

It's hard to be a fish at the Co-op on the deli

Laid out in the cold like a crime scene off the tele

Wishing the day away watching the people stare

And wondering

It's hard to be a fish at the Co-op on the deli

Laid out in the cold like a crime scene off the tele

Wishing the day away watching the people stare

And wondering 'Who will take me home'