Office Migration Blues

[Verse 1]
September spilled its copper on the street,
The sky was wrapped in linen, cold and grey.
Above the park where woods and markets meet,
The birds were screaming, "Time to fly away!"
The leader honked: "To Hellas! Nile awaits!
The golden sands and water crystal clear!"
But I just stood behind the office gates,
And realized: I’m staying right goddamn here.

[Chorus]
Oh, fellow cranes, go flap your wings and fly,
The azure distance calls you to the sun.
But at the HQ, in the "City" sky,
They wouldn't sign off on the leave for anyone.
They said: "My friend, the backlog’s way too high,
The fiscal year-end reports aren't even through.
Forget the Delta, look me in the eye—
You’re wintering with us, it’s overdue."

[Verse 2]
I argued: "Wait, I’m still a bird of prey!
An ancient instinct pulsing in my veins!"
But HR sat there, blocking out the day—
A bloated owl who holds the corporate reins.
He hooted: "Drop this talk of migration,
We have a schedule, KPIs and plans.
In this specific, bird-brained situation—
You’re just an admin. Just sit upon your hands."

[Verse 3]
And there’s my flock, high up in some nirvana,
Calling "Goodbye!" as they dissolve from sight.
While I’m at checkout, stuck in 'Walmart-iana',
With a fake beard for Christmas Eve tonight.
I bought a parka, boots for frozen feet,
The winter’s come, the lake is turning white.
The inner bird has suffered a defeat,
I’ll find a snowy hole to spend the night.

[Chorus 2]
Fly on, my brothers, to the palm-tree shade,
Where 'krakadils' and dates await your stay.
While I stay here, kicking the ice I’ve made,
And cursing every snowy, local day.
They scratched my flight right off the master plan,
My title: "Watchman of the Reeds" — okay?
That’s how it goes for any working man,
When corporate walls lock all your soul away.

[Bridge]
But wait, there is a silver lining here:
I’ll be the first to meet them when they land.
While they were feasting in a warmer sphere,
I grew a frosty hunger — ain't it grand?

[Outro]
I’ll write a novel: "Winter in the Swamp,"
I’ll get it published — screw this whole department!
I’ll be a bird, free from the corporate pomp,
Not just a slave in a cubicle compartment.
[Fade out]

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