[verse1 I’m sitting in the car, heading to this place called “work”, when I pass that door — it’s a different kind of hell. The kind where you’re important… right up until you’re not, all those so-called “bosses” with their fake ass “good job”. [Chorus] If the Devil wants to punish me, he won’t need fire or pain, just a pen in my hand… and send me there again. [Verse2] Management thinks you're robot, without a private life. Start earlier, stay longer, it's not a "9 to 5". "Think for yourself" they say, "think outside the box" , but when you in fact do — it’s wrong… fucking paradox. [Chorus] If the Devil wants to punish me, he won’t need fire or pain, just a pen in my hand… and send me there again. [Verse 3] I keep asking myself — how is this still running? It’s a miracle, really, with all that bullshit coming. Boredom, whining, anger — that’s all that lives in here, even the radio goes silent… like it doesn’t want to be near. [Outro] I could walk away — yeah, it wouldn’t be that hard, but “my boys” keep me here… my favorite group of assholes. So I stay — we bitch, we laugh, pretend it’s all okay, ’til the last one standing… wasting another day.
