I Ain't Gonna Work On Maggie's Farm No More

I was feeling a little artsy-fartsy today, so I wrote about my current transition from being an overpaid prick to becoming a grossly, overpaid prick:

Douchebaggery Waning

I write these words with utter glee,
in a state of ecstacy.
My sentence is done, I've been paroled.
No longer will I be cornholed.

Please don't think of me as crass,
but the time has come to kiss my ass.
Don't be timid, don't be meek,
just plant a smooch on either cheek.

I will not miss most of you tools,
as I debark this ship of fools.
Since I don't work here anymore,
I doubt my butt will be as sore.

The die is cast, I will not stay,
for gold, jewels or beggar's pay.
Let this serve as my resignation,
I'll no longer suffer this fucktardation.

Remember once that I've escaped,
that I can no longer be buttraped.
If you need me, expect the worst,
as this consultant won't kiss you first.

In the future, I think I should focus more on the fartsy side.