What has made me a rat
and what has made you a rat,
slaves to winding Blue Chip halls?
Dragging numbers and figures by chain set to ankle,
seeing a cocoon of bureaucracy as the means to come out something better

Since when has life become a game
made up of the status quo and
made us it's unwilling subscribers?

And if you think you're not, that means only it's dress is much more alluring

Since when
did we become the contents of Skinner's Box?

At what point does a tiger
jump through the hoop and come out a cat wearing stripes?
Is it before or after the tamer does the same?
When will we realize we are not made of glass
and eggshells are not made of steel?