Yeah I've got some serious fucking shit on my mind. Can you believe I work in a bank? Me in a bank? Does that sound fucked or what?
It's all full of this convoluted bullshit and such, i.e. I gotta wear a tye; even though I wear it a little crazy with cartoon crazy designs on it so people will go "whoa-hoa!, What is HE doing in a bank?"
First thing in the morning, people give me shit, that's how I know my day's begun. There's always that customer that comes in early that you just want to say "Sir, are you aware that you are gross? That your cheques smell?" If I had one question to ask these sad pathetic morons, it would be "Who would fuck you?"
Although, at night I get a little crazy! I down the bub and then I'm the king of club! Fuck the bank I work for! Fuck the bank! I dance around all night and yell out "hey asshole! Nice hair! Go back to England!"
Sigh, It's always back to the bank in the morning facing Miss Many throats, and the first thought that pops into my head as I stareinto her cowish middle aged eyes: Who would fuck you? You should go bisexual just to increase your chances.
This is why some days I think I'm going to go crazy! Fuck the bank! I'll be quitting soon! fuck the b-b-bi-bank!
I describe myself as a little dose of toxic masculinity.
