[Hook]

Same salary, more meetings.
Same backlog, fewer evenings.
Same two hands, more doors to hold.
Same old chair with a title in gold.

[Verse]

Nine o'clock, delivery sync.
Nine fifteen — "What does Daniel think?"
Ten o'clock, the pipeline's down.
Eleven — mine to sort out now.
Noon, the chat begins to glow:
"Can you call? The tests are red."
I type "I'll join," then answer anyway —
My real name buried in the thread.

[Pre-Chorus]

I move the work from day to night,
Then mark the schedule "on track" in white.

[Chorus]

Same salary, more meetings,
A day erased in fifteen-minute beatings.
My real work starts when the hallway clears —
Same salary, more meetings, more years.

[Verse]

The calendar has no white space,
Just colored blocks without a face.
Leon wants a confidence plan.
Sabine asks what support we can.
The Director wants the risk kept small.
The team wants one straight answer, that's all.
At six, a message marks "urgent."
At seven, I'm a developer again.

[Pre-Chorus]

I move the work from day to night,
Then mark the schedule "on track" in white.

[Chorus]

Same salary, more meetings,
Every empty box becomes a briefing.
They call it leadership, clean and neat —
I call it coding after everyone leaves.

[Break]

No lunch. No review.
No room to think the problem through.
No pause. No plan.
Just "Daniel, could you join again?"

[Instrumental Break]

[Bridge]

My notebook holds three lists tonight —
Product says left, the Director says right.
A promotion should have changed the view.
It only changed who the silence answers to.

[Guitar Solo]

[Final Chorus]

Same salary, more meetings,
Same brave smile at every greeting.
My real work starts beneath the midnight screen,
Where the title fades and the code stays green.
When the calendar owns every hour I keep,
Leadership is work I borrow from sleep.

[Outro]

One final message flags at eight:
"Tomorrow's priorities — please update."
I close the file. I miss the train.
The four-note figure starts again.
