Sillón De Mis Entretelas

They want to take away my position
I'm not leaving
I won't let go of this cushy job
I've earned it
So many years nodding
and even applauding
and now they come to tell me they've fired me

Armchair of my innermost parts
My little official office
They want to leave me with nothing
just a general director
They want to kick me out
throw me to the outskirts
What a backstab
the official paper

Clung to my seat
like a barnacle
No one can pry me away
from this armchair
It's my mother, it's my wife
it'll be my tomb
I've already smeared my backside
Synthetic material

I was handpicked
and here I stay
for eternity
Amen Jesus
They won't move me from this throne
I have fertilizer
until the day I kick the bucket
from a heart attack