Modern Slavery

I remember the day I started digging my own grave, Was the day they gave Me a number To work as their slave. My life, my existance all owned by the machine, To strive for the man who I never have seen. Circumstance and events all planned in advance, All the pain and heartache they left nothing to chance. If I didn't comply or take my place in their game, Then the trials would come to hurt and to maim. The family your born into can't help you break free, They too are just cogs in the wheel same as you and me. Your freedom and dreams they soon strip away, Your tossed into the downward spiral of moral decay. And just when you've succeeded the goals you had to meet, That's when the Yank the rug out from under your feet. So then comes the day they stand at your grave with phoney tears, They are really only crying because you didn't give them more years.