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 notion Sitting glued to the computer screens Fingers raised - "must finish the scene" Techno-droppings don't exist Within these walls we can't resist
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