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G drive - Office protocol

Emaan

Sagging jowls and empty eyes

Fine wrinkles and little white lies.

 

Wage slaves begging for hire 

Robots in office attire

Dirty carpets and flickering LEDs

The stale scent of week Old Chinese 

The stuttering hum of the microwaves circular whiring 

Office rumours like malignant Tumours are reoccurring 

It’s your job it’s your pride it’s your dignity to

But without your secret flask you couldn’t make it to half past two 

 

The unity of ceiling tiles mirrored overhead

Flirting with the thought that your better of dead

Louis vitton bags accessoriesed with overdue mortgages 

Company’s frauds guarded like fortresses

The sour whispers of office politics permeate the air 

Careers ruined over who took the last eclair 

 

Your children are starving your house is dilapidated 

Your thin lips smile until the boss is infatuated 

Now your on your knees for an office promotion 

Whispers ignite fires of a PR explosion

Now your crossing all your tees and dotting all your is

Can’t even look your family in the eyes 

Living and dying by the shadow of the pound

Market crash drop and the ledge is a long way down


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