H.R. - Meljoann.

Assfuck the Boss

no matter what you did in the past
no matter the management tricks that you pulled on me, baby
no matter company policy forbids it
i love you, i love you
it’s just your leadership style
we don’t have to listen to the fucking shareholders
no, listen, let’s talk for a while
i love you, i love you

you’re not gonna claim him
you’re not gonna claim it
i ass-fuck
i ass-fuck the boss

no matter what the service industry
in your short skirt, your little typewriter
it doesn’t matter if he pays you better
i hate you, i hate you
it’s just his leadership style
i understand our place on the economic model
no, listen, let’s talk for a while
i love you, i love you

feed yourself before it breaks
feed yourself before the relationship crumbles
let our net worth accumulate
i love him, i love him


O Supervisor

i caught a tiny little fishy in the minigame
wish that i could fly away
but this RPG don’t gimme what i need
my character is an office drudge
you need some rupees if you want a level up
something feels fixed. there is no way to win
no way you can advance in the time given
my supervisor logs in with bonuses
his combos suck my energy, even if he misses
i think he used the cheat
i think he used the cheat

girl
you are a pawn on Boss’ board
no means of production
girl
you are afraid in Boss’ world
with no market attraction

oh supervisor
you are a phantom
oh supervisor
more to you than ranting
read the report
and skip the bigger words
you’ll only mispronounce ’em

you’re like kirby, sucking all the surplus value
a little less kawaii and a lot more salaryman
you best be careful, i’m not gonna take your shit
my stomach needs your money, but my ass is gonna quit
you strut up to me, like you’re really going to say something
like we’re in the british raj, and you really wanna say something
i may have coded something extra, in my lunch break
you best act less colonial, for your own sake
you raise your hand. i lilt at ya:
diddley idle dye dydle dydle dydle dydle doh
i embed a meme-virus in my song
it re-contextualise you so you know you don’t got long
anticipated all your arguments.
for example:
among the many charges levelled
one is i’m an intellectual snob
wait a minute, (no!) sometimes people just wrong
no post-structuralist loophole you can hide in
what you’re doing’s not literary criticism
just kidding
i can talk dialectics and reflexivity with the best of ’em
but that just means that i can deconstruct your -isms to nothing
along with all that other shit
got the knowledge down the public library, just doin’ it
i’m on the last dungeon. you’re gonna take a hit
i’m on the last dungeon and you’re gonna take a hit

girl
you are a pawn on Boss’ board
no means of production
girl
you are a stain on Boss’ drawers
got no market attraction

oh supervisor
you are a phantom
your corporate wings are clipped
more to you than ranting
read the report
and skip the bigger words
you’ll only mispronounce ’em

if the game is stacked
i take the power back
if the level don’t exist
take a keyboard and code it
if my game’s so wrong
tell it to me in your song
what’s the matter, can’t sing?
too busy? I win.

oh supervisor
i’m gonna fix you
my magic bar is full
you’ll take a pounding
oh super boss
i found the master sword
i don’t want your desk job


Trophy Wife

One of us has to earn money
It’s gonna be me
You always were the delicate twin
Ingrown and thin.
One of us had to be a winner
Bring home the bacon
That porcine competition
And you’re a vegetarian

If you can’t be that big gun
I’ll be the lost one
Can’t even post those letters
With our company header
I’m out here somewhere

Ah, Trophy Wife
Ah, mounted on my mantel
Ah, so valuable
Ah, I keep you safe from the vandals

Ah, my Trophy Wife
Ah, there are those that would seek to harm you
Ah, don’t worry, baby
Ah, I’ll protect you

One of us trawls the streets for pennies
It’s gonna be me
You’re always there after the fight
With bandages and ice
You drew me, only half-formed
Coloured me in, a sketchy composition
I’m still waiting for my hero’s chin

If you must feel this so much
Not tough-skinned enough
Think I’m so hard
You’re not butch enough
Just give me a hand up
I’m in here somewhere
Fisting men in the trading pit

After all I’ve done, you’re plotting when my back is turned
A taxidermic carcass, maybe, but you can still get burned
I’ve gotten sentimental after all this time
I’ll do what I can—you shouldn’a signed that prenup.
I’m all business.
You can be my Trophy Wife.

Ah, Trophy Wife
Ah, I love you
Ah, so valueable
Ah, I’ll keep you safe from the vandals

Ah, my Trophy Wife
Ah, when can I show that I have you?
Ah, don’t worry, baby
Ah, I’ll protect you


Company Retreat

she and I stood shoulder pad to shoulder pad
playing truth or dare
got the briefcase filled, and then
hunted meat and stoked camp fire
then we finished the team building exercise
i crept out to find real guns
the marketing director, he had one
stocks and bonds
they cost me a lot

company retreat, company retreat
sharing heartache to heartache
then back to the office
company retreat, company retreat
tights are torn, heels are broken
then back to the market

she and i pretended that we’d never met
took one for the team
it was a lipstick montage dream
fiscal years went by unchecked
then i held several secret board meetings
and we voted: no confidence
at least they did, when i sent cigars and scotch
then i played golf
gave a brown envelope

company retreat, company retreat
sharing heartache to heartache
then back to the office
company retreat, company retreat
tights are torn, heels are broken
then back to the market

company retreat, company retreat
i don’t want to go
company retreat, company retreat
mandatory blow

we marched through the undergrowth
her territory underfoot
i’d worn a wire, i’d taken notes.
i knew her habits, could predict ‘em
she was there before we were
with coffee boys and shoeshiners
on higher ground: the sandwich girl
the cleaning force. they outflank all of us.

i cried:

company, retreat!
company, retreat!
company, retreat!
company, retreat!

she’s a socialist.
when it buys her things.
she’s a man of the people,
when she needs a hired gun.
don’t protect her.
she’s just as bad as me.
you’re not listening.
come and work for me

company, retreat!
company, retreat!
company, retreat!
company, retreat!


Personal Assistant

Personal Assistant, stand up
Put down your pencil and jack
Don’t have to smile when you’re attacked
You’ve got to get the sack
Get the sack
Let yourself see how much it sucks
Feel your Executive’s shame
He need a dance but wants to trade
You know that bed wasn’t made
By itself

If I have to be your secretary
All double-sided on your company stationary
Not gonna be your hero at the water cooler
If you’re gonna set yourself up as our ruler
I can confirm you are the company stapler
You make attachment after attachment after attachment after

Personal Assistant, stand up
Put down your smartphone, let’s jack
Don’t be the chairman, be the mack
You gotta squeeze through the cracks
Through the cracks
Tell the boss to phone my ass
And charge my usual rate
We know it sucks, you have to wait
Because you don’t get paid
By yourself

Down by the company machine is a plant
Plastic roots nudge past fake pellet soil to hunt
Artificial leaves open to the sun
Use your clipboard like a shield
Use your pen to wriggle through asbestos ceiling
Email that dream
Email that dream

Let yourself feel the pain
If we don’t, may never feel again
There’s some shit we’re not supposed to take
I’ll say it again:
There’s some shit we’re not supposed to take

Personal Assistant, stand up
Discard that draft and let’s jack
This wage-slave shit is getting wack
It may be time to pack
Time to pack


Business Card

On the golf course
And I shot 18 holes
Got my man-slave with me
He brought my scotch decanter
Ain’t no Roman’s Greek slave
Don’t want the competition
He’s basically a golem
(Basically a golem)

Got my new Business Card
(Got my new Business Card)
Got my new branding on it
(Got my new branding on it)
Got my new Business Card
(Got my new Business Card)
Got my new branding on it
(Got my new branding on it)

I’m on the golf course
And I shot 18 souls
Got my PR on it
We hide in Daddy’s wallet
Might like to dress it up
But it’s the same old system
On a civilising mission
(Money-making mission)

Got my new Business Card
(Got my new Business Card)
Got my new branding on it
(Got my new branding on it)
Got my new Business Card
(Got my new Business Card)
Got my new branding on it
(Got my new branding on it)


Consumer

I synthesised a candy-covered dream
And I love it to its chocolate-coated seams
I was cruising for some sort of victory
So I took some acid to the fructose team

And it’s all mine, oh
It’s so fine, oh

Got that nitrous oxide in a sugar meme
So I replicate a Technicolor cream
Don’t you wanna ask me why I dig such frippery?
I was always on the citric acid team

And it’s so fine, oh
It’s all mine, oh

Did you see the product glittering?
All that other shit is ancient history
Don’t want to ever be that late to the party
I was always on the soma-soma team

I was surfing on a pixellated stream
Glamour models, unicorns and chivalry
Don’t wanna do yourself some sort of injury
Better stick with artificial flavouring


Overtime

(Overtime, yeah)
He got a picture of that hot little girl
She’s going to get busy with his
(Overtime, yeah)
He got a secret that he can’t tell the world
No-one told the workers, baby

Whatever little you know
The places that you just gotta go
I tried to go
Tried to get us out of there
Whatever secrets you told
They’re sucking you to corporate hole
I tried to go
But that’s another story

Some overtime upon the after-work dance floor
He’s got a secret that we’re all gonna pay for
He took a bonus, and those stiffs cannot know
They would hamper the flow
Only hamper the flow
She tries to network, thinks of wonderful things
A pretty dream in which he wasn’t her king, and
Later scholars said that he felt the fear
Revolution was near
But she just signed up for more

(Overtime, yeah)
He got a picture of that hot little girl
She’s going to get busy with his
(Pass that dime, yeah)
He got a secret that he’s gonna tell the world
No-one tells the workers, baby

Some overtime went down in some office block
It bought some assets for some overpaid cock
The work itself it wasn’t paid for, par se
It’s for a reference, one day
For a reference, one day
He leans in over her, and over-explains
There’s be a free bar when she’s finished the training
He strokes her shoulder, and she tries for a smile
He’ll just talk for a while
Sign her up for infinite

(Overtime, yeah)
He’s got a Secret and that hot little girl
Right beside the golfing trophy and his
(Surgeon’s knife)
He’s going after the one that got away
She should have got busy with his
Overtime.

Whatever little you know
The places that you just gotta go
I tried to go
Tried to get us out of there
Whatever secrets you told
They’re sucking you to corporate hole
I tried to go
Tried to get us home, and then

(Overtime, yeah)
He’s so much more than what those ledgers can say
Got no records of that
(Overtime, yeah)
But it is never him that misses his pay
No accounting for the

(Overtime, yeah)
There is a second set of cufflinks in your case
Right behind your golfing trophy, and a
(Surgeon’s knife, yeah)
You’re going after the one that got away
You’re going after the one that got away
You’re going after the one that got away
You’re going after the one that got away


Hoard

From the pie chart
I took a slice
In the bar chart
I stuck a knife
I’m a big boy now
I am big boy now
I motherfucking killed it
Went up the elevator

you sink into the chair
paperclip dispenser
never be better
i dream about you
towering. choke. punish. hanging
windsor knot around my neck
name tag on my dress
pinned into my breast
better get your apron on
your stains.
charge me for laundry
non tax deductible

I reach into your life
My hoard, my treasure pile
And when I pile it high
You won’t control my life
I will not put to use
Hard-won surplus value
The assets I’ve accrued
Will never get to you

Who’s the farmer now?
I’m reaping skyscrapers
Got a nimbus of
Fiscally conservative newspapers
I’m a big boy now
I am a big boy now
I order cappuccino
But all I want is
I need a
A couple of Mercedes

stigmata logo where you touched
body hemmed with your margins
i’m just a debit column. you rule me
you rule me with a kiss. all business.
take your call through lunches.
employee of the month again
that is, until you wish
to come off like a disciplinarian
punch it in
my evil boss

I reach into your life
My hoard, my treasure pile
My capital is mine
Your labour my birth-right
The Market stacked to me
So it can be truly free
Tuned to my melody
My opportunity

i want to melt into thin air
you won’t fix the conditioner
breathing cost extra
please don’t see me, evil boss
you win.
you rule me
you rule me invisible
just like my wages
too minuscule to observably exist
this is not particle physics
the only thing you accelerate
is growth of your master’s wallet
not even your wallet
evil boss

please don’t see me, evil boss
please don’t
you rule me
you rule me


I Quit

I quit
This deal is really shit
I just get to subsist
You’re gonna miss
My labour power
I quit
I was your favourite
But uniforms don’t ever fit
When you get rich
From my labour power

O, capitalism
I’ve made your coffee
I let you love me
A long time
O, capitalism
I’ve paid the rent
On that land you stole
And I only poached one time

I quit
This deal is really shit
I just get to subsist
You’re gonna miss
This labour power
I quit
Won’t suck on your fake tit
Reality was fixed
So you get rich
Off labour power

O, capitalism
I held your clipboard
(I was something once)
Cleaned out your cat’s litter tray
Picked up your kids from ballet
O, capitalism
(I had a thought)
I de-bugged your laptop
Gave your employees a stern talking to
(But I can’t finish it)
I have done everything you wanted me to

There’s nothing to live for
When I’m trapped in
Your acquisitional embrace
And there’s no love
Like your love
At all
Probably ’cause you’re all sociopaths and I quit

I quit
This deal is really shit
Your contract takes the piss
You’re gonna miss
This labour power
I quit
I am just capital to you
And not even the kind you can
Bank on when we’re through
You’re just a prick
So over it
I quit


Ventilation Shaft

in an action movie scene
we just drift. rise.
suit melts off
climb through a ventilation shaft
because they had to let us breathe

They can’t deny it
No-one’s escape plan ever comes true
That is just some lie
That Disney sold to you

You might play a villain, you may play a prince
You just don’t convince
It’s nothing new
Climb through a ventilation shaft, get out
through the air vent
Not without you

No matter how how big it seems to you, they say
You’ll never fit in this chute
No matter how clever you seem to be
We are all just chumps to them, baby

scheduled in: limb removal
deviant’s foot kicks out, it
impacts with substitute face of the financial controller
whose replacement hand
pulls the temporary hair of the HR director
whose stand-in knee became embroiled with false genitals
of a visiting investor

and then:
out through the ventilation shaft
because in the days before contractual artificial respirators
they had to let us breathe