[Spoken Intro — cheerful, professionally reassuring automated voice] Thank you for contacting us. Your concern is important to us. We have carefully considered your concerns. [Brief electronic glitch] We regret that you remain concerned. [Deep bass groove enters] [Verse 1 — witty, rhythmically precise conversational rap; dry sarcasm] I gave you dates. I gave you names. Colour-coded every little flame. Screenshots, letters, numbered proof, Six years stacked beneath one roof. I kept my language nice and clean, No inconvenient in-between. No raised voice. No ugly scene. Just evidence in PDF fifteen. And every time I reached the end You found another form to send. [Pre-Chorus — rhythmic, melodic rap; one female lead with playful changes in inflection] My concerns are noted — noted where? You understand? Then do you care? More particulars? Here's a clue: For the ninth time — they're with you! [Chorus — infectious, bouncy melodic hook; layered female backing vocals, no shouting] Fuck all! Fuck all! Welcome to the Department of Fuck All! Take a number, take the blame, Change the office, keep the game. Fuck all! Fuck all! Build a maze and call it protocol! Stamp it closed, pass it on, Tell me where accountability's gone. You can file me under Too hard / too small— Welcome to the Department of Fuck. All. [Verse 2 — nimble funk-rap, increasingly absurd; mischievous bass groove] Asked for help. Got new directions. More reviews and more objections. Rows of evidence, lines aligned, Every page revised and signed. If this, then that, just as prescribed, Each table meticulously designed. "Family matter." ; "High conflict dispute." Another door. Another route. No disclosure? Mediate. Can't compel it? Litigate. Can't afford it? That's a shame. Keep your voice down. Sign your name. Office One says Office Two. Office Two refers me back to you. Everyone pretends to be kind, While leaving all the work behind. [Pre-Chorus 2 — dry, witty melodic rap; smooth groove continues] You acknowledge my frustration. Beautiful. Thank me for my co-operation. Wonderful. "Your matter is progressing"... Is it, though? [Chorus — catchy, playful, confident; extra funky bass movement and harmonies] Fuck all! Fuck all! Welcome to the Department of Fuck All! Take a number, take the blame, Change the office, keep the game. Fuck all! Fuck all! Build a maze and call it protocol! Stamp it closed, pass it on, Tell me where accountability's gone. You can file me under Too hard / too small— Welcome to the Department of Fuck. All. [Verse 3 — stripped-back groove; intimate, measured rhythmic rap, darker emotional truth] There's a second job nobody sees: Be hurt correctly. Say "please." Know the policy. Know the clause. Make your suffering fit their laws. Don't sound angry. Don't sound weak. Don't take too long. Be brief. Be meek. If you're composed, it can't be bad. If you're upset, you're clearly mad. Too emotional? Lose your case. Too controlled? No harm to trace. Bring the records. Bring receipts. Bring six years of "not our brief." And when the last door closes too— They ask what else you expect them to do. [Instrumental Break — sparse bass pulse, faint automated hold music] [Spoken Bridge — pristine institutional voice, soothing; the song's only spoken interruption] Thank you for your patience. We acknowledge the considerable effort you have invested in this process. We consider this matter closed. [silence] [Lead vocal — intimate, dangerously calm, dry disbelief] Well, I fucking don't! [silent pause] [Full bass groove returns with irresistible swagger; crisp drums and playful funk accents] [Rhythmic Breakdown — buoyant rap call-and-response, rhythmic layered female backing vocals] How many hours? Count all of it! How many letters? Count all of it! How many doors did they send you through before they said there's nothing they can do? Count all of it! Every chase. Every hold. Every "sorry." Every closed— Door. Every bill. Every fee. Every hour of labour done for free. Every time you asked for aid and found another price to pay. Every woman who learns the score, And makes herself impossible to ignore. [Final Chorus — joyful defiance, infectious collective groove; layered female harmonies, no shouting] Fuck all! Fuck all! Can you hear us coming through the wall? Different names, the same refrain: "Please explain your pain again." Fuck all! Fuck all! You built the maze — we learned the floorplan. Close the file. Wash your hands. We are done disappearing on command. No more buried under Too hard / too small— We know the Department. We know the halls. And if you won't hold the story— We fucking will. [Final bass hit; instruments drop away] [Outro — original automated voice, slightly damaged but still polite] Your concerns have been noted. [Lead vocal — intimate, quietly amused, sharp] So have you.
