Brrrring brrrring! Brrrring brrrring!
This person is filled with hot air.
He bristles and bustles and chokes down the wire.
He’s mad at something, but I struggle to care.
It’s just paint, it’s not worth this ire.
That person talks about what this person did.
They tell the whole office, as if lifting a filthy, secret lid.
‘They spoke to Sally like she was a kid’
The office is shocked and exquisitely livid.
Another found out they had heart disease.
They had just four more years to retire with ease.
She says to me, ‘I’ve a feeling I won’t make it’
She says to me, ‘I worked hard for this, but I might not make it’
She says to me, ‘I worked to spend my time with my husband, but now I might not get it’
I say, ‘You’ll make it, you’ll get it, I’m sure’
I think to myself, ‘I don’t know if she’ll make it. I don’t know if she’ll get it’
I think to myself,
And I bottle it up and don’t say a word, as the world keeps on revolving, dark and absurd.
I won’t take it, but I’ll take it, because I need to work, to earn a living.
So I can live, and die without meaning.