Fax Machine

[j$]

Fax Machine by Johnny Cashpoint

Met this she-male over e-mail
All man but also female
And she wanted every detail of my office fantasy
Pretty little temp boy
Who's just aching to be employed
In a role that he'll enjoy so he gets down on his knees

CHORUS: Let's make love on the fax machine
The toner is full and the copies are clean
So we will send out our filfth to everyone we know

Office romance shocker would be
Stopped by e-mail blocker
Technology's a sucker when it won't let you be
But no-one checks the faxes
Obscelence at its laxest
Means that I can phone my manhood to another country

CHORUS

(f - f- f- fax machine) x2

Work to rule? (No)
Work to live? (No)
Work to screw cos
Work screws you

(C'mon baby, punch my clock - punch it now!)

Ignoring the instructions
Might end up in self-destruction
But the paper tray's got suction that's too fine to ignore
My boss comes in next morning
Fax is flashing up a warning and
He wants to know who poured the whiteout onto the floor?

CHORUS x 2

Photocopy your ass
Photocopy my balls
Send it to the she-male
(Fax is better than e-mail)

[thehipcola]

awesome! Friggin' awesome Cashpoint.

[Steve Durand]

Fax Machine

by Steve Durand

The day you left you promised
That you would write to me
And then you would transmit
a facsimile

Well it's been a week now
I haven't seen a thing

It gives me bad dreams
That interrupt my slumber
That you forgot the number to my
Fax machine

I made sure it's plugged in
And full of paper too
I don't know why your note
Is overdue

I went to Office Depot
And picked up some supplies
I won't take the chance
That I'll be feeling lonely
'couse I ran out of toner on my
Fax machine

Try to inspire
The one you admire
Express your desire
Sending love notes on the telephone wire

Perhaps it would be better
To send a telegram
That way I wouldn't risk
A paper jam

But now the phone is ringing
And now I hear the beep
I was so sad
But now I'm feeling better
I finally got your letter on my
Fax machine

[Spud]

Fax Machine
according to Octothorpe

The masses wait in line.
As store hours decline.

Relying on stores for duplication.
I mock them for their obsession.

They pay five cents a copy.
And the stores are sloppy.

Bright sweeping lights blinds.
They must be out of their minds.

[Chorus]
They must be on cocaine.
Not faxing is insane.

It just seems silly to me.
Not to settle for a facsimile.

Everyone uses the post office.
But I have a different accomplice.

Deviating from the mean.
I have a fax machine.
[End Chorus]

Open from nine to five.
The post office is a dive.

Random scraps of paper.
Waiting to be sent later.

Thirty seven cents a stamp.
Waiting there like a concentration camp.

All the lines and pennies make me angry.
Octothorpe makes predictions like Bradbury.

[Chorus]

I owe it all to Alexander Bain.
I could be like all the others in pain.

He lead me to replication mastery.
Instead of stone age slavery.

I love sending messages when I please.
And laughing at others choking on cheese.

And the best part of all.
Is that I get menus from the mall.