Job Slowly Killing
This is the climax of your life,
You worked your youth away for this :
A suit, a tie, an icon briefcase
A stroke, a deadline, gravity-strained face.
You get a pretty desk, a pretty mistress,
A loyal wife, you don't want to face this
Deep depression, decaying days
Ray Bans protect from UV rays.
You've got your money, your fancy car,
They always knew you'd get this far,
They didn't know you'd want to die,
Slit your wrists and say goodbye.
Am I still young? I don't want to live this way.
But in this generation, we don't care anyway.
- Miguel C. Kesey