Thieves of joy
Scribes of lies
Nefarious agents of a timely demise
They hide in the shadows
Of their Benzes and Rovers
To pounce on a courier
And make him bend over.
Thieves of joy
Scribes of lies
Nefarious agents of a timely demise
They ask us a question
And scoff at the truth
With spit-filled coffee breath
flooding the room.
What's the point
Of a failure at craft
To supervise those
Who are still on the raft?
Whoever said
There had to be smarts
To wear a suit and tie
And be filled with hot farts?
Why reason with
A team of obtuse donkeys
If they'll only stay
For six more, long weeks?
Thieves of joy
Scribes of lies
I can't wait to tell you
"So long, and goodbye."
