Carrors & Sticks

He no longer cares if his shirt is ironed properly There's no one there that he cares to impress Aesthetically, he's determinedly faltering In protest of a place where reindeer games Outweigh performing duties Altruistically he bleeds. They're putting process before progress Dropping bodies more important than good business No carrots, All Sticks Flunkies who fail up and fly follow-ship Chasing butterflies with a net built from lies Clock suckers living for quitting time Chastised for coloring outside of the lines Desk jockies controlled by the spin And giving face time They prefer not to grow pure While they capitalize on committing sin You can't stick it to the man Without facing the workforce That empowers him I'll retire, when I die Bimonthly they pay modestly Moving forward offhandedly They're insulting, greedily Those who did the work those jerks Monetize commercially He sees clearly All he can do is dream Of being free From the man He's never seen I'll retire, when I die.