A Well Paid Collapse
The alarm clock sounds off to the tune of Neil Young’s, There’s a World.
A place that is non-existent in today’s life of a constant upwhirl.
Our dreams and aspirations are put to the side.
To get ready for the day of demands and haste for pride.
We enter our vehicles to begin a long drive, tiredness and red eyed.
To a place called work.
That requires you to do the tasks for that special perk.
No time to think.
No time to blink.
Your life is full of deadlines, distractions, until the pen runs dry, out of ink.
For hours on end, is this constant repetitive action.
You’re told what to say.
You’re told what to do.
Colleagues are fighting over who is using the offices favorite glue.
We are all in this mess together.
Bound like pieces of sewn up stitches of leather.
All for the reward.
A paycheck to continue to do it over and over again.
Feeling like a dartboard.
Designed, controlled in the trap.
It is the life of a well paid collapse.
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