Adjunct,
and punctual,
I have got the marketers blues,
for they have come to sell me my soul,
and make me buy it back from,
back from them again it is true,
but what mutuality could be this superficial,
and lacking beneficiality,
for it tears at me this waste of time,
and this depravity,
this depravity that you come to me with,
yes, this inanity,
this inanity that you lead me through,
and ask me questions to fill your quota,
questions that are meaningless,
and what it means is not much, but a list,
and I will not benefit by listening to you,
but I feel obliged in the time,
and pay you no mind,
for my mind is elsewhere,
and you,
you are being paid,
but still the world will be better off,
without your quango,
for it will solve nothing,
nothing like it usually does,
and I need a quango,
to work out how to avoid you.
