Monday meetings and powerpoints,
No one knows what they bring,
Trying to understand those pie-charts,
Sleepyhead doesn’t recall anything.
Why do they torture me,
As if I have done something wrong,
I can’t leave this room now,
Or wander out for long.
The coffee’s bad, the tea’s sad,
Both aren’t of much help,
Think am losing my soul,
But could get some help from alcohol.
Don’t know when this will end,
It’s been long now,
Can’t handle this anymore,
How I wish there was a cure.
Shoot To Thrill 