The Men's Room

Fucking kids are whinging
They can't get a job
The photocopy repair man
Is a smarmy smartarse knob
I've been running this office
For so long I can't recall
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
"Good morning Mr. Jenkins,"
The office girls all say
"Gentlemen," I tell the board,
"The agenda for today?"
I play the part so desperately
Because the truth so appalls
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
The fingers that knot my tie
Are fat with some success
They tremble still so slightly,
So far only I notice
In the far off wilderness
A lone hyena calls
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
Off I go to the men's room
For the seventh time today
My bladder no longer hears me,
No matter what I say.
I count the tiles in front of me,
And wait for the trickle to fall
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a fucking wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.
I've gone and pissed thirty years
Up against a wall.