Is each dull breath a waste of air,
When the world around you hardly cares,
Who should live and who should die,
Amongst these masses by your side?

Consumer fed with wretched fears,
Another cog, a shift, a gear,
So why don't you just end it here,
Lost in multitudes of tears?

This is modern living,
At the best.

Like a Nun on the Run, I'm terrible fun.