I called but you wasn't there

And everybody said

That you were cutting your teeth somewhere way out West

Where the ice had thawed

Where the bluebirds cawed

The boots of Spanish leather

Had clicked on the right, floor

My baby now

I don't know how, I'm feeling

Sore, and when you get this text

I'm needed back at my desk

Hello, yes

May I please direct you to my line manager

Well I'm sorry to hear that

We aim to impress

May I please direct you to my line manager

I am an algorithm son

I eat my processed lunch

Do you feel your independence

Or is it too much

In this bright new dawn

On this greener lawn

The ties that finally tether

And the sound of a lost chord

My baby now

I don't know how I'm feeling

Sore, and when you get this text

I'm needed back at my desk

Hello, yes

May I please direct you to my line manager

Well I'm sorry to hear that

We aim to impress

May I please direct you to my line manager