I’m stuck in a mire of stupid rhymes
Keen to avoid insane deadlines
I want to work above the line
Put my feet on the desk and pass the time
Go out for lunch on the company card
Wear a beret that is tres avant garde
Yet here I sit, sit , sit, sit
Today I do not like it, not one little bit
You want some vernacular in that AV script?
Then write it yourself you dumb little shit
But I bite my tongue and taste the blood
The sweat and tears that fall in a flood
One morning soon I shall climb to the roof
And leap into space with my parachute
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