Life is a series of endless moments,
His seemed to be restrained by his job,
He never bothered to see the outside world,
He was too afraid to turn the door ****.

Never did he ask or bother,
Was his soul worth the everyday toil,
Now he's scribing away on a piece of paper,
Burning the midnight oil.

A cup of coffee and a lazy past time,
Keeps those nerve-wrecking thoughts out of his mind,
Little does he know that his futile efforts,
Are only keeping him inside his own bind.

'Go earn money, it is everything,'
So he's been told,
Everyday he struggles to get by,
Chasing after that *** of gold.

Yet he's somehow contented,
For his words help him to express his thoughts,
The ones which gave the purpose he wanted,
Ones he never fought.