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Like a call girl turning a trick,

I wade through the morning with its smiles, phony and slick,

I float on top of the compliments, greasy and thick.

I left my soul at home,

The atmosphere chills me to the bone.

I close my eyes and go through the motions.

It hurts to look,

It hurts to feel,

Are my tears for your entertainment,

Or are they real?

My hopes and scruples are fading fast,

Just one more glass ceiling to get past.

My future is calling,

But one misstep and I’m falling.

The paycheck and power are waiting,

My naiveté is fading.

I turn it over in my mind,

As I leave those hard working losers far behind.


Smiling my way to the top,

After one too many smiles I found I couldn’t stop.

My clothes stay on,

But the gloves are off,

I eagerly dive into the pig-sty feeding trough.

It doesn’t matter what kind of hand you’re dealt,

If you’re willing to hit below the belt.

Yeah – you gotta know a lot of tricks,

To survive office politics.

Bfk

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