A poem for all my pressured colleagues:
I’m so busy that I don’t have time to think.
A million deadlines are driving me to drink.
And my boss’s latest request has brought me to the brink.
If I had a second, maybe I’d find time to think.
What can I do? Murder will just land me in the klink.
But these clients are impossible—they want everything, including the kitchen sink.
It’s enough to send me searching for the nearest shrink.
Counseling’s nice, but I don’t even have time to think.
This job’s insane; everything is out of sync.
What’s urgent is not important, but I can’t make a stink.
I’ve got bills to pay, so I won’t let them see me blink.
Gotta go now; I simply don’t have time to think.