Well,
the walls of your cubicle are closing in,
and the false ceiling's pushing down,
and the fax machine appears to be breathing in and out,
and your head is spinning round
and round and round and round and round.
Oh no,
I don't want to climb the ladder, oh no,
I want to ride those snakes forever, just stop.
I'm so tired of all the talking, just stop.
The treachery in the back's down and make it stop.
I think I'm gonna be sick,
and you don't have to be crazy to work here,
but it helps.
Well,
your M&S shirt is drenched with sweat,
and your brown leather brogues are cutting
up the circulation to your toes,
and your colleagues are out pretending to be your friends,
and they look mildly concerned when you
climb onto your desk and start screaming,
oh no,
I don't want to climb the ladder, oh no,
I want to ride those snakes forever, just stop.
I'm so tired of all the talking, just stop.
The treachery in the back's down and make it stop.
Oh,
I think I'm gonna be sick,
and you don't have to be crazy to work here,
but it helps,
just stop.
I'm so tired of the conversation, just stop.
Your evil Powerpoint presentations,
make them stop.
Oh,
I think I'm gonna be sick,
and you don't have to be crazy to work here,
but it helps.