Step in the room, clouded by remorse-
Living in virtue, as a monetary *****-
Grind till you can’t shine-
Anymore-
Till your soul is soaked with weary-
And the theory doesn’t mean-
Much more-
Wake up and follow the footsteps of all those who failed before you-
Pretend what you’re doing means something to you-
Cause at the end of the day when your laying in your grave-
Your going to ask why you just let time slip away-
Why you worked so hard till you turned bitter and grey-
Why you followed the fold cause there wasn’t much more you could say-
We all do it, they took us by the neck-
Made paper a value-40 plus hours of regret-
And I bet, nothing will change-
Generations will comply to do all the same things-
Work till their fingers are bones-
Till they receive more debt just to own a home-
And grow with the same type of disappointment as the ones before-
Capitalistic disappointment creeps into the pores-
Chores-are as follow-work, work, work-
Don’t break the mold-physically healthy mentally hurt-
Vent now son before its all to late-remorse clouds this room-
Hate guards the gate-
Welcome to the red, white, and blue fate-