I am so distant

And so cold

I've lived too long

And I'm so old

I've tried so many distant ways

I've watched each one of them delayed

I can't expound for the ages

While we are leafing through the pages

The office blocks from which we march

Mirrored shades of the Patriarch



Lounge lizards in penthouse flats

May soon find out where it's at

They gnaw away our hard earned pay

We walk the treadmill every day



Caught by streams of constant motion

Most of the workers have no notions

Sitting glued to computer screens

Fingers raised - "must finish the scene"

Techo-droppings don't exist

Within these walls we can't resist

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