Oh, you’re right. Yeah, you’re right.
You haul big boxes on your shoulders every night,
Bruise them and heave some more boulders.
Oh, you’re right. Pain makes you right.
Girl, you’re the boss. Yeah, you’re the leader.
You strut around making friends with higher-ups,
Clowning around while whipping underlings.
Girl, you’re the boss. Two grinning faces slathered in sauce.
Man, you’re the go-getter. Flying to Finland for your future.
Give yourself a few months of utter failure,
You’re gonna come back to your homeland a sleazy winner.
Man, you’re the cash cow. Milk yourself and spill more grand!
Boy, you’re cool. Look at that! You’re nobody’s fool.
Hitting the road in your sleek, sleek car
After getting hit from behind by every Mr. Johnson.
Boy, you’re cool. You surely earned that tsk, tsk tool.
Guys, you’re on top of the world. Can’t see nothing but birds!
Directing your little armies in your dingy office
What more can you ask for? When your knickers strike fear?
Guys, you’re the lords. So go and make ’em sweep the floors!
Oh, people, you’re right, you’re right.
You’ve been through hell and back and now you’re hell as tight.
Kick ’em in their asses, these pansy Nancys
Like you kissed Mr. Johnson’s hiney before you turned holies!