All I am is busy
Artificial demand
Who was the demented soul that created the mobile phone?
Separate lives, away from the scene
Now my freedom is taken
In a line of text, strings
A puppeteer behind the scenes
Superiority breeds inferiority
But in a land full of flawed monkeys
We are equal
Not in our rights, but in our ability to be feeble
After this line, I go back to the grind
Grinding my teeth
It's what I deserve
When will the happiness return?
Have I become too disturbed to learn?