In the back office pessi-optimistic jerks come gossipers put their mouths to work.
Teachers getting through every angle of a well constructed scandal.
Passing folders, passing the buck, cute little sneakers, never merit, always luck.
Always complaining about the little that lacks.
While you offer nothing your own shit is jack.
When the all hits the fan, you'll wring your hands.
Lament for the victim of the crime, again you grind the great grape vine.
Hypocrite badges and tirades of fury, you are the ideal self appointed jury.
When you are wronged the others should appease, not get off on your suffering unfortunately.
Follow the norms, echo the slogans, echo the quirky quotes, show yawn.
You have no power to impact the world, static as the limpet clinging motherpearl.
So you wield sarcasm, sharpened quips, from blackened teeth, coffee stained lips.
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