Paper Grave

Verse 1

Grey file cabinet, paper-clipping king

Left-out soul, bound to forms and string

Shuffling folders with that dead man stare

But when it’s time to act, nothing there

You chant “procedure”, “policy”, “follow the line”

Lose everything cause computer is voodoo

Choke up the system in a paper grave

The final boss of your finger in your snoot

Chorus

Bureaucrat fool, overpaid and slow

Can’t do anything but dig up your nose

Mining for gold in your dried-out seas

Serving booger snacks as your main expertise

Bureaucrat fool in a plastic chair

Playing tin god with a rubber stamp stare

Preach “regulation” like a holy decree

Your real life job is your booger spree

Verse 2

You kill a dream with a single form

Call it “compliance”, say it’s just the norm

You say “not my section”, “not my turn”

“get in the queue, watch your hopes all burn”

You quote the handbook, paragraph and page

Time wastes itself away in your waiting-room

Your only skill set: digging deep for snot to feed you

Knuckle-deep mining like it’s all you were born to do

Chorus

Bureaucrat fool, overpaid and slow

You can’t do anything but dig up your nose

Mining for gold in your dried-out seas

Serving booger snacks as your main expertise

Bureaucrat clown, in a king throne

Playing tin god with a rubber stamp stare

You preach “regulation” like a holy decree

Your real life job is a boogers spree

Guitar Solo

Verse 3

Your memos, your minutes, your pointless mail

All fall apart when there’s a real detail

You blame “the system”, “the rules”, “red tape”

Anything but you for the slow-motion rape

I see you at your desk, posing like a star

No riff, no soul, just a braindead czar

When the backlog breaks and the whole line falls through

You’ll still be in the corner, eating what you find in your nose