A cubicle surrounds me, a desk full of paper,
This afternoon's work piling up adding pressure,
But i'm not bothered don't even care,
It's Friday so my mind's not even there,
Staring out the window at the lifeless sky,
Everything cold and dull no bird on the fly,
Is it a mirror to my feelings at the mo,
All empty and hollow behind this closed door,
Or is it because i'm bored and don't wanna be here,
A new job a new life whatever wherever but not here,
Cause it's the same old voices with the same old stories,
Same old s.h.i.t they're trying to sell me,
Never mind there's a couple of hours left,
The weekend i'll make the most of that you can bet
