They outsourced
My job today
For a fraction of
What they pay
Us human types
To move our neurons
My useful skill
Lacked interferon
That’s a fancy way
To say I wasn’t immune
While dancing away
To the corporate tune
They made a chip
That would fit on a pin
That’s all it took
To do me in
I stand in the back
Of a mile long line
With other guys
Who were doing just fine
Until they weren’t
And were served pink papers
They sent in HR
To pull off the caper
The CEO
Bought another house
And matched it up
With another spouse
The Wall Street Journal
Called him a hero
He found a new way
To add more zeros
The bottom line
That’s all that counts
To investors with
Fat bank accounts
For the corporate slave
Grinding away
Pushing papers in
A cubicle each day
It’s a scary thought
That spooks and frightens
You lose some sleep
Your butt cheeks tighten
It’s probably time
To take back your neurons
And generate
Your interferon
