Alison Rigby (Minnick) - Vocals, Violin
Justin Minnick - Piano, Guitar, Snare

The Very Thought of You - Billie Holiday - Al & Justin

#CorporateSatire #AntiWorkAnthem #LatinRock #BossaNova #ProtestMusic #OfficeBlues #WorkplaceRevolution #GaslightingAtWork #SambaPunk #CorporateVampires #QuietQuitting #DanceOfTheDamned #BossBattles #SoulCrushingJobs #RebelRhythms #SatiricalMusic #WorkersAnthem #OfficeHorror

**Verse 1**  
Ohhh-oh, they call it “leadership,” but it’s just a disguise,  
A shadowboxin’ bully in a power-tie.  
You crunch the numbers, bleed into the grind,  
While they rewrite the rules, then rewind, rewind…  
“Why’s the project late?” Well, who switched the plan?  
Their amnesia’s a weapon, and you’re “the bad man.”  

**Pre-Chorus**  
They’ll say you’re “too emotional” (No!)  
When their conscience is optional (So low!),  
But the truth’s in the coffee-stained files,  
And the way their smile never reaches their eyes…  

**Chorus**  
Crappy bosses, ohhh, dance on our backs,  
Samba of the soulless, clappin’ as we crack.  
Gaslight sambadrome, they’ll cha-cha-cha lies,  
But we’re countin’ the numbers, oh, to say our goodbyes!  
When that lottery hits, we’ll rhumba through the door,  
No more tango with tyrants—we’re dancin’ poor no more!  

**Verse 2**  
They’ll steal your hustle, then call you “too slow,”  
Take weekends in Cabo while you’re kneelin’ in snow.  
Your stress is their salsa, your tears the salt rim,  
They’re a carnival vampire—suckin’ dreams on a whim.  
But the drumbeat’s shifting, can you hear the low hum?  
The workers’ soft clapping’s a revolution’s drum…  

**Pre-Chorus**  
They’ll say you’re “not a team player” (Lie!)  
While they’re yacht-shoppin’ later (Goodbye!),  
But the office walls whisper their shame,  
And the janitors know every CEO’s dirty name…  

**Chorus**  
Crappy bosses, ohhh, your rhythm’s offbeat,  
We’re the band playin’ hot in the soul-sucking heat!  
You can mambo your malice, twist truth into twirls,  
But we’ll samba to freedom—and bury your world!  
When those numbers align, oh, we’ll bossa nova away,  
No more blood for your bonfire—we’re fireflies at day!  

**Bridge**  
Imagine, imagine—no alarms, no demands,  
Just sun on our faces and saltwater hands.  
No more “urgent” emails at 2 a.m.,  
Just a beach where the waves shout, “Never trust them!”  
We’ll build a new rhythm where respect is the drum,  
And the only “deadline” is when the margaritas come…  

**Outro**  
Crappy bosses, your empire’s a bluff,  
We’re the samba they’ll never silence enough.  
So spin your sad stories, your trophies of greed,  
We’ll waltz into the future—where the wounded hearts lead!  
And if we win that jackpot? Honey, pass me my shoes—  
We’ll dance on their desks in a bossa nova news.

Bossa-No-No

We no speak americano - Original song Renato Carosone

Vintage Postmodern Jukebox - Lovefool -

Uranium rock fallout radio

Lyrics of the original song by Cage the Elephant:

I was walking down the street when out the corner of my eye
I saw a pretty little thing approaching me
She said I never seen a man, who looks so all alone
Could you use a little company?
If you pay the right price, your evening will be nice
Or you can go and send me on my way
I said your such a sweet young thing
Why'd you do this to yourself?
She looked at me and this is what she said
There ain't no rest for the wicked
Money don't grow on trees
I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed
There ain't nothing in this world for free
I know I can't slow down
I can't hold back though you know I wish I could
No there ain't no rest for the wicked
Until we close our eyes for good
Not even fifteen minutes later, after walking down the street
When I saw the shadow of a man creep out of sight
And then he swept up behind, put a gun up to my head
He made it clear he wasn't looking for a fight
He said give me all you've got
I want your money not your life
If you try to make a move I wont think twice
I told him you can have my cash
But first you know I've got to ask
What made you want to live this kind of life?
He said there ain't no rest for the wicked, money don't grow on trees
I got bills to pay I got mouths to feed ain't nothing in this world for free
I know I can't slow down
I can't hold back though you know I wish I could oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked
Until we close our eyes for good
Now a couple hours past, and I was sitting in my house
The day was winding down and coming to an end
So I turned on the TV
And flipped it over to the news
And what I saw I almost couldn't comprehend
I saw a preacher man in cuffs taking money from the church
He stuffed his bank account with righteous dollar bills
But even still I can't say much cause I know were all the same
Oh yes we all seek out to satisfy those thrills
You know there ain't no rest for the wicked
Money don't grow on trees
We got bills to pay we got mouths to feed ain't nothing in this world for free
We can't slow down, we can't hold back though you know we wish we could
You know there ain't no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good

Mister Sandman

Pomplamoose

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