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