I am masking my corporate Kool-Aid breath,
In hopes of not snuffing out, my dreams like a cigarette butt.
Can cloud nine swoop down and pick me up?
I can’t seem to crawl through the cracks of this cubicle jail
Barriers of bullshit expectations have me in a head lock
Damn you Jake “The Milkman” Milliman
Somebody save me from the corporate zombie walk
My undead colleagues don’t know they are not real.
The carpet smells like dank and moldy cat piss
The computers unravel my brain of yarn
I am picking up traction
Putting my dreams into action
I dare you to step in front of my dream locomotive
It will derail your excuses, and crack them wide open
I can’t wait to see their pupils, when I hand them the shock letter
Sixteen years of career smoke will be sucked away into the Ionic Breeze.
Don’t fail me now Sand Man
My dream mitt is ready to catch you.