[Intro][Ticker sound]
Number three hundred forty seven.
Currently serving:
Number one hundred twenty nine.
…
Fan-fuckin’-tastic.
[Verse 1]
Took the morning off from work Thought I’d get this done real quick
In and out
Simple transaction
What a stupid thing to think
The line wrapped around the building Like people were queuing for salvation
Three hundred souls standing patiently
United by administrative suffering
An hour passed
Then two
I started recognizing faces
We weren’t strangers anymore
We were survivors
[Pre-Chorus] Slowly moving
One painful step at a time
The finish line was finally visible
This fucking nightmare was almost over
[Chorus]
Fuck this queue
Fuck this line
I have aged considerably
Since I got here
I’ve memorized the floor tiles
Named the ceiling fans
And developed a personal rivalry
With Window Number Three
Fuck this queue
But victory is near
Just one more person
Then it’s finally my turn
[Verse 2]
The security guard knows me now
The cashier nodded once
Which felt like respect
Someone behind me got hungry
Someone ahead of me had children
By the time we reached the counter
The kids practically had careers
I watched seventeen people
Fill out the wrong form
One guy proposed to his girl while in line Like that kind of shit was normal now
- she said no
[Pre-Chorus]
One more customer
One more signature
One more minute
Freedom was fucking right there
[Chorus]
Fuck this queue
Fuck this line
After four fucking hours
The end was finally near
My documents were ready
My numbers were correct
I had achieved queue enlightenment
Nothing could stop me now
[Bridge]
“Next!”
YES.
FINALLY.
I APPROACH THE COUNTER.
The employee looked directly at me.
Looked at the clock.
Looked back at me.
Then said:
…
“We’re breaking for lunch.”
…
Excuse me?
…
[Bridge Part 2]
Lunch?
NOW?
FUCKING NOW?!
I’ve been standing here since fucking breakfast!
I am lunch!
Fan-fuckin’-tastic!!
[Guitar Solo]
[Final Chorus] [Key Lift]
Fuck this queue
Fuck this line
I was this close
To reclaiming my freedom
The forms were done
The mission complete
Then bureaucracy delivered
One final critical hit
Fuck this queue
Waiting for them while they fucking eat
To continue my adventure
In Administrative Hell
[Outro]
Number three hundred forty seven.
Please proceed to Window Two.
…
Wait.
That’s me.
…
So sorry sir
We’re closed.
“ What the actual FUCK!
Fan-fuckin’-tastic!