the living dead


Everyday I wake up at the same time
Everyday I feel the same;fine
The sun rises every morning in the east
The morning doesn’t seem to change even the least

Everyday I go about my work
Only to make some buck
I have no one to love
I don’t have the desire to go above

My soul seems dead
My body lives only for bread
I have no desire
In my heart there’s no fire

Everyday for my work mechanically I think
My eyes feel too tired even to blink
To me all the days seem the same
For which I have only myself to blame

My body may be a temple
But I only wait for it to crumple
My eyes see the world around me
But they don’t view it happily just let it be

I have become so mechanical
Never in my life have I been so hysterical
Now that all is said
I introduce myself to you as the living dead


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