three ways a motherfucker

there are three ways to go when the blokes fuck up at work    
usually by spending money that we won’t get back    
and in this game    
a team of dozers and dumptrucks    
can piss thousands by the hour    
   
first way is gutless;  
just say nothing    
or maybe sneer some caustic comments    
and be an arsehole for a few days    
make lives hard without saying it straight  
   
weak    
   
next way    
old school    
feels good and will kill you    
is to just lose your shit    
throw things    
fire someone    
get right up every cunt    
make even the cleaner shake in her fucking boots    
   
both those ways been tried and done    
and never met a man who respected either one    
   
the last way is cruellest;  
sit ‘em down and start talking    
work at it    
tell ‘em you’re disappointed    
tell ‘em you thought you had a good crew    
tell ‘em what it makes you feel    
be the let-down father figure  
   
that’s the one that hurts    
   
played that card today    
"we all look like cunts right now"    
"we get paid to do the job right"  
"any fool off the fucking street could balls it up like we just did"  
promised them I’d wear the heat from higher up    
but we’d always know who’s fuck-up it was    
and when they left    
dragging their heels and heads    
marching out my door silent as sad children    
I rocked back on my chair    
and wolf-grinned at the roof    
cos I may not be going to heaven    
but I’ll make a fucking dollar    
and buy a leather seat in hell