(no subject)

[archfatuous]

The Grind

rush hour highways
are funeral processions
skyscraper buildings
mausoleums
your cubicle walls are
your coffins
and you're buried you're buried you're buried in
paperwork
and politics
and micro-managing
silver-tongued psychopaths

and you can't quit
you got a baby on the way
and where would you be without
your HMO, oh
oh my god
you think, why are they doing this to me
what you don't see is
your god is your company

in corporate war
it's every man for his wealth
when push comes to shove
you'd rather stab their backs
than stab yourself
and i understand
it's really ok
i didn't want
that job anyway

you are very unlikely
to think like me
how can i hold you to that?
But know every single commodity
you produce
is a piece
of your own death

i don't want to go to a job anymore
i don't want to file my taxes
i just want to burn all my clothes
and run into the ocean
i just want to drink from the river
and piss where i please