Cubicle Farm

Cubicle Farm, Cubicle Farm
I was raised on a Cubicle farm
Life was simple and ‘twern’t so hard
On the Cubicle farm

Cubicle Farm, Cubicle Farm
Get up early at the crack of dawn
Rise and shine turn the coffeemaker on
On the Cubicle farm

Tend to the workers making their pay
Sitting in chairs typing away
Staplin’ papers and complaining all day
Chase down the ones that try to get away
Life was simple and ‘twern’t so hard
On the Cubicle farm

At night I’d sit with my Maw and my Paw
We’d all gather ‘round the conference call
And talk about charts and other what-all
On the Cubicle farm

Now I’m forced to work outside
Can’t stand these trees nor the big ol’ sky
My woes stack up. It’s rather frustratin’
Like bullet points in a full-color presentation

Cubicle Farm, Cubicle Farm
I sure do miss the Cubicle Farm
I would give my left arm
Just to get back to the cubicle farm