Lyrics:

I'm tired of being bossed around
Getting the runaround
Sweep your floors, empty your trash
You're the one that makes the cash
Tired of being a pissant, nine to five
Open my letter, you won't be alive
Here's a present just for you
When you open it, you'll be through
Sit behind your desk, act like a king
Treat me like a human being
Give me the worst jobs, I'm getting mad
When you're dead, I'll be glad

Here's a present just for you
When you open it, you'll be through
Plastic explosive on your letter
You'd be better off dead
Hope that building crumbles
On your head
Die, die!