I want to touch you in your cubicle
I want to touch you in your space

I know it's not your home
But since we never get to see our homes anymore
Let's not waste any more time
I want to take you on a date to the copy room
We'll kiss by the fax machine
After dinner, drinks at the water cooler
Walk hand and hand down the hallway in between

All the cubicles and if it goes well, you'll ask me in
You'll say, "Sorry it's such a mess," with a grin
And you'll turn off your lamp and your fluorescent light
And you'll pull me under the desk for the night

And when I wake up with a post-it note stuck to my face
And the carpet burn taste in my mouth
I'll say I want to write a cubicle love song 'cause a
Cubicle love song will give us all something to sing along to
While we try to get through
Work our bosses are told by their bosses
To tell us to do to avoid losses and layoffs
You know we're all holding out for stock-option payoffs
Or at least box seats to the playoffs
Retirement is such a long way off
What are we so afraid of?
Let's get out of here
Let's get out of here