Sickman

Can you tell I hate my job?

I hate you all
Not one of you would catch me
If I should fall
You wouldn't piss on me
If I were on fire
You bunch of fucking liars
I wish I could quit
I'm sick of all your faces
And all of your shit
This job is killing me is all
My soul is shriveled up
Into a little ball
I need release
Need to be somewhere far away
I need peace
Far away from the likes of you
To do the things again that I used to like to do
But for now
I'll just keep going insane
Tearing out and eating chunks
Of what used to be my brain
I'm sorry I can't be like all you walking dead
So a sickman I will be instead
I may be insane
But at least I'm not a bore
I hate this job enough
That I don't feel like a whore
Someday soon I'll be able to say goodbye
To all you fucking pricks that make me want to die