Slogging Through the Riff-Raff
Fender-bender over there,
the traffic is awful,
ain’t not space left in the lot,
that’s such a load of bull,
and the punch-in barely works,
that’s almost criminal,
this is how we all start the day….
The whole server’s on the fritz,
I.T. just says reset,
I’ve turned if off three times,
but it hasn’t worked yet,
and the boss is running late
yet it’s a safe bet,
that she’ll only get in the way….
Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
every day the same crap,
slogging,
slogging.
Oh I sent in my report,
but boss don’t like the font,
H.R. say the checks are late,
my wallet’s looking gaunt,
they say audit’s coming down,
the boss took a quick jaunt,
the tell me crime doesn’t pay…
Someone brought in fish for lunch,
now it smells like a pier,
and it’s barely twelve o’clock,
but I could use a beer,
the feminist intern
think everything’s a leer,
they say her lawyer loves to play...
Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
so tied of this crap,
slogging,
slogging.
And the printer barely works,
no toner in the back,
they keep promising new chairs
because with pain I wracked,
come back a minute late
they nearly blow their stack,
and somebody just dropped a call…
Speak to you like your kids,
never a bit of trust,
demand all your loyalty
then can you on a bust,
if I had no children
I’d leave them in the dust,
’cause I don’t need this at all…
Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
need a weekend so bad,
slogging,
slogging.
Copyright ©
David Welch
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