working endlessly under constant pressure
all the names and all their sick games
you've worked yourself away and can no longer feel
in your pitiful state of oblivion i can see the blinding truth
what a sad mishap this has all turned out to be
you've sold your soul, in return for endless work and duty
how could this be? can't you see what's been done?
no longer do you seek the company of your friends
now you find friendship in the means of your labors
weary and worked, now useless, this must end
before you become a complete ghost to the world
save yourself before its too late to turn back
the far away looks and distant eyes make my blood chill
as i realize that it may already be too late for you