Death By Office
The maddening click of key strokes
The shrilling of the phones
The crunch of crumbling paper balls
Slices to the bone
The dull humming of the copier
Four million paper clips
The smell of tacky wite out
So sick of all of it
It's like sitting in a coffin
This tomb with three gray walls
Choking on monotony
In a stifling, dreamless stall
I need to find the exit
Won't be like all of them
A dead eyed walking corporate corpse
Fake smiles, no brain stems
I know I need to hurry
Before they bury me away
And I become a pro quo victim
Soulless zombie for the pay
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