Top Deck Tipster

I don’t want to hear your voice
Your teleconf’rence, on the bus
Is leaving me without a choice
I have to know your business

Project’s going down the drain?
Well pardon me, but what a shame
I couldn’t help, but note the name
You’re indiscreet, so who’s to blame?

If only I’d a big remote
To mute what’s pouring from your throat
Your tendency to grin and gloat
Intruding on my slow commute

What could I do, but profit here
From tyranny without much fear
But act upon the careless steer
And hope to gamble back my fare?

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