her fingers click on the ten-key pad
counting seconds to the end of the day
in a cubicle forest, in an ideal world
20 cents over minimum wage
on the weekend she plays her stereo
takes a walk by the edge of the lake
bakes some food for the week ahead
sometimes stays up a little bit late

nothing's gonna go wrong

Executives come and executives go
but her docile demeanor remains
it guarantees that at promotion time
she's passed up again and again
when the boss happens by as he rarely does
he says "I'm glad you've been down here so long"
"you're the bottom brick of the company
the one who keeps our profits strong

Over time things get worse and worse
the accountants can't figure out why
the financial strains still escalate
she decides to take a holiday
the bankruptcy court starts to look around
and her backup figures look a little queer
the police raid her house but there's no-one home
the bottom brick has disappeared.