I Hate My Job

every day I come to work

every day.. god I hate my job.. oh I hate my job..

and it must sound that I don't care

but let me tell you au contraire mon cher

I don't know why I used French there...

I bet it's for the rhyme.. that's fair.. right..

I say hi to the security guard..

he hates me as much as I hate my identity card...

I bet he hates his job too..

so.. true..

to the second floor I take the stairs

I never use elevator - no one really cares..

i open the door - I've seen it all before..

gawd I hate this place.. can't take anymore..

here comes that smiling Mary..

she's director's secretary

she comes in at nine o'clock..

and I bet she can make me feel good..

but we never talk..

I say hi to colleague of mine

he looks like s***..

but he's saying he's fine..

I wonder why

he smells like wine..

that's a sign..

I sit in front of my computer

I feel like I'm ready to go postal and shoot'em All...

that would be a ball..

quite a ball..

same s***, different day..

different day, same old crap..

same people, same colors..

same walls, same halls..

paow!

and again I see Mary in the hall...

she makes me forget it all...

and I crawl back to my desk... feeling grotesque..