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letra de the men's room - tism

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the f-cking kids are whingeing
they can’t get a job;
the photocopy repair man
is a smarmy smart-rs- kn-b;
i’ve been running this office
for so long i can’t recall –
i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years
up against a wall.

i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years up against a wall.
i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years up against a wall.

“good morning mr. jenkins,”
the office girls all say;
“gentlemen,” i tell the board,
“the agenda for today?”
i play the part so desperately
because the truth so appalls:
i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years
up against a wall.

the fingers that knot my tie
are fat with some success;
they tremble – still so slightly,
so far only i notice:
in the far off wilderness
a lone hyena calls:
i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years
up against a wall.

off i go to the men’s room
for the seventh time today:
my bladder no longer hears me,
no matter what i say.
i count the tiles in front of me,
and wait for the trickle to fall:
i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years
up against a f-cking wall.

i’ve gone and p-ssed thirty years up against a wall. (x8)

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