Tuesday, June 22, 2004
· posted at 4:14 PM
My desk hates me. I cannot go one work day without ramming an elbow, hitting a leg, or, as the case is today, smashing my knee into my desk. I learned from jury duty that you can file workman's comp for sh** like your own clumsiness. Sign me up.
My desk hates me. Or maybe it's telling me to leave.
Get me out of here.
A heart that’s full up like a landfill,
A job that slowly kills you,
Bruises that won’t heal
You were so tired, happy,
Bring down the government,
They don’t, they don’t speak for her
I’ll take the quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide