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..