Now I can’t hear out of my left ear,
and I have a major aching in my rear
from sitting on my butt day after day;
My throat’s so dry I can barely speak
from talking to respondents week after week,
and I work so hard I forget how to play.
Now my ego may be stainless steel,
but I still have a heart and I still can feel,
and it hurts when some of those jerk-offs rant and rave;
And my computer screen is wrecking my eyes,
and the whole damn place is full of company spies,
and I feel just like an old Roman galley slave.
While you might think my behaviour’s strange –
way outside the normal range –
workplace madness really is nothing new;
so don’t go getting up in my face,
telling me I’m a social disgrace:
If you worked here, Jack, you’d be a weirdo, too.
Though the boss says lack of worker pride
puts the whole damn country on a downhill slide,
I tell you, folks, the boss hasn’t got a clue:
Since they’re wrecking our bodies and they’re wrecking our minds
and the profit motive’s the only tie that binds –
And gags! And strangles! Them and him and her and me and you . . .