最高のUdio音楽プレーヤー

(Verse 1) Sittin’ here among the numbers, fingers typing to the bone, The boss man’s crackin’ the whip, with a voice as cold as stone. But there's a beacon in the basement, where the coffee’s thick as mud, It's that big-legged lady, she's the fire in my blood.

(verse) Oh, I'm just daydreaming, through the spreadsheets and the files, 'Bout the lady servin’ up lunch, with her worn-out kitchen tiles. She can’t cook, but Lord, she can sure light up the room, Her food may be bad, but she's the flower in full bloom.

(Verse 2) She slings hash and burned toast, with a shining pearly grin, I don’t come for the cuisine, I come to see her spin. In a world of black and white, she's the color, she's the tune, On these four-cornered shackles, she's the sweetest afternoon.

Yeah, the workday’s long and dragging, like a tired, endless song, But she’s the verse I’m waitin' for, as I shuffle along. Come tomorrow, I’ll be back, with a heart full of desire, For that big-legged cafeteria queen, she’s my office blues on fire.