DREAM JOB TRAJECTORY

[Intro] (mutters, static hum) Dream job... Dream job stank of piss... Tick-box caring under a weeping sky... Weeping, vacant sky... [Verse 1] (talk-sung, tense bass riff) Four-year-old politics! RED AND BLUE! RED AND BLUE! Crayon cheeks and crayon truth— While the grown-ups marched into cubicles, Grown-up world left it all behind! Left it bleeding behind! [Pre-Chorus] (faster, chaotic drums build) Management spews buzzwords like confetti! Management spews buzzwords like cheap confetti! At the parade of the PERMANENTLY BEWILDERED! At the parade of the PERMANENTLY BEWILDERED! [Chorus] (shouted, gang vocals maybe?) DREAM JOB STANK OF PISS! Career ladder made of matchsticks! DREAM JOB STANK OF PISS! Snap goes your ambition in the drizzle! [Verse 2] (quieter, more sneering) Targets and metrics and BLOODY spreadsheets! All your passion quantified, dissected! Spreadsheets! Spreadsheets! BLOODY spreadsheets! Childhood drawings on the fridge— More honest than your C.V.! More honest than your BLOODY C.V.! Where truth... Goes... To DIE! [Bridge] (noisy meltdown: guitars howl, vocals distorted) You're just a number! A number in the grotesque system! System eats your name, spits your badge! Four-year-old knows better! FOUR-YEAR-OLD KNOWS BETTER! [Final Chorus / Breakdown] (full collapse, everything unhinged) DREAM JOB STANK OF PISS! DREAM JOB STANK OF PISS! DREAM JOB STANK OF PISS! (DREAM JOB TRAJECTORY!) (DREAM JOB TRAJECTORY!) [Outro] (bass and drums stagger, vocals almost whispered) Tick-box caring under a weeping sky... Career ladder... Snapped... Snapped... SNAPPED...