You don’t hate your job, it pays the bills,
Protecting you from loss, and unforeseen ills,
Your boss, your co-workers, they are nice enough,
Provided you do the right things and say the right stuff.
There is a promotion looming for you just up ahead,
Great, provided the extra hours don’t leave you dead.
Morning traffic is of course a terrible frustration,
Even in your dream car you get no satisfaction.
A coffee, a doughnut and takeaways each day,
Your doctor starts warning you to find a better way.
You find your job easy, you know the system inside and out,
You get some respect, you know what you’re talking about.
This job is not your calling, in fact it’s a bit of a bore,
How you got into the industry, you’re not quite sure.
Now you have a car, a mortgage and increasingly expensive taste,
You can’t afford to cut down though, your partner won’t allow chaste.
Your bucket list is incomplete, in fact it’s all but forgotten,
Your dreams have gone stale, your passions are now rotten.
Yet the people are nice enough and the pay is great, you know it would be foolish to quit and rely on fate.
Besides you have no other skills, you’re no longer fit or good looking, how could you get a new job, or even just an interview booking?
This is your life, it will remain unchanged,
Arriving safely at your grave is what you’ve arranged.