The Agency song

The deadline cometh, and I'm not yet done.
It's going to be curtains, for everyone.

I can feel butterflies, in my pit.
The shit'll hit the fan, and I'll be rolling in it.

The Art guy casts, a longing glance,
Hoping that there might, still be a chance.

That I shall, the campaign crack.
And get servicing, off his back.

But his prayers, have been in vain.
And I'm beginning, to feel the strain.

My nerves are shot, my brain's turned to jelly
And there's a funny feeling, in my belly.

My sphincter seems, to have lost control.
And my stomach's doing, a triple jump roll.

My doom it seems, is imminent.
My star is definitely in descent.

But just when you think, disaster is nigh.
There appears a light, in the sky.

Coeus, it seems, has heard my prayer.
And delivered me, from my despair.

The deadline now, has come to pass.
And I have just barely saved my arse.

But a new deadline shall come again,
And I shall write yet another refrain.

About the nature of the job I’ve come to love,
And the divine intervention from up above.

And the hundred deaths I die each day,
Just to sell come ‘Frito Lays.’