| Aw shit, I’m back in the rat race again
|
| And what’s worse, most of these fuckin' rats are my friends
|
| And worse still I’ve lost my map so I don’t know where this shit ends
|
| Aw shit, I’m back in the rat race again
|
| As I wake up with the previous night still ringing in my fragile head
|
| Trying to piece together any shitty thing I might’ve done or might’ve said
|
| I drag my lifeless carcass to it’s feet and out of bed and clock in to another
|
| day
|
| Another day within which I can look forward to the possibility that,
|
| maybe today will be the day that something interrupts the never ending list of
|
| mundane tasks that sit between me and the closing bracket of my drive home
|
| Maybe today’ll be the day that something snaps as I think back and react to the
|
| distinct lack of impact in my shrink wrapped life
|
| Maybe today’ll be the day that I’ll tear down the foundations of my whole
|
| existence and start again
|
| Knee deep in the rubble, rummaging, for something that I can use as a starting
|
| point
|
| Something to jump off of
|
| But then, the future ain’t what it used to be
|
| And as the day’s tasks reverberate around my dormant brain, I continue to greet
|
| another member of public with a perfect replica of what is known as a welcoming
|
| smile
|
| I switch off all unnecessary facets and glide through the day on cruise control
|
| remembering what life was like before this role
|
| And as I stare blankly from my till point I start to tap my feet to the
|
| discreet beat the general public secretes
|
| The footsteps
|
| The breathing
|
| That one baby screaming
|
| The coughing and the heaving
|
| Those unruly kids out thieving
|
| But before long, my creative daydream is once again interrupted by the ever
|
| watching eyes of the management
|
| See, like a child spinning in circles just to make himself dizzy,
|
| my only real requirement in this place is to make sure I look busy
|
| But I’m using that to my advantage, see
|
| 'cause just as not every open eye is seeing, not every closed eye is sleeping
|
| So while they pay me for this paint by numbers shit
|
| Every thought I have, I’m keeping
|
| And remember, the same shit can taste pretty different if they season it right
|
| So if youre gonna sell out your beliefs, make sure your reasons are watertight
|
| And as the chief worker bee tries his best to nurture me and searches deep to
|
| help me find the key that might just unlock and help me free the,
|
| buried inner-bourgeoisie, that with time and effort I could someday be secure
|
| in a place of great integrity rooted deep within the company’s family tree
|
| taking bullet point steps from A to Z leaping over the boring parts like a
|
| corporate flea. |
| I look at my supposed luminary, and I simply don’t agree
|
| And I’ll sell my soul, I’m just waiting for an appropriate fee
|
| No penny loafer wearing fuck’s gonna short change me
|
| Scroobius P-I-P till I D-I-E
|
| So fuck it, I’m back in the rat race again, but that’s cool
|
| Because amongst these rats I’ve found some straight up true friends
|
| And I’ve started drawing my own map, you ain’t gonna believe where this shit
|
| ends
|
| Aw shit, I’m back in the rat race again |