| On your knees, look at yourself, a corporation cog with a head
|
| No original thought, a product of things, that consume your will,
|
| and define your dreams
|
| When you were young, you took on the world, remember how you’d laugh and sing?
|
| You’ve replaced it all with an IRA, internet porn, and a job you hate
|
| Spectator on your own life
|
| Watching and cheering goodbye
|
| Sinking into endless night
|
| Serving your slave design
|
| Giving in without a fight
|
| Passion resonates no more
|
| A goal that never comes in sight
|
| Til they close the coffin door
|
| Fenced-in yard, that screen on your wall, books on the shelf, you never have
|
| read
|
| Suburban right turns, amassing your wealth, a middle-class pawn,
|
| in love with himself
|
| Lock the doors, set the alarm, another weekend, alone in your head
|
| The kids are out drunk, the wife’s in bed, pop a few pills to forget again
|
| Spectator on your own life
|
| Watching and cheering goodbye
|
| Sinking into endless night
|
| Serving your slave design
|
| Giving in without a fight
|
| Passion resonates no more
|
| A goal that never comes in sight
|
| Til they close the coffin door
|
| Inside your homemade prison, an average life lived and died
|
| Rules deftly followed
|
| Boss' ass, firmly kissed
|
| Bound in by possessions
|
| …And overpowering emptiness |