To think on your feet, to be in the groove
To stay at the fore, to act on the move
To be all you can, to reach for the sky
To always make sure you get your piece of pie.
Push through the gaps, and battle for space
Always striving to keep, your rightful place
never submitting, or stepping aside
All just to maintain some limp, brittle pride.
A life ticking boxes, to follow a plan
No room to allow for the growth of the man
We limit ourselves with our need to expand
When the real life we’re seeking is right here at hand.
The rat race is winning, we lose our best age
We give up our lives in pursuit of “the wage”
We follow the path, laid down as before
In the hope that we’re running up some kind of score.
We miss what’s important, We don’t feel the loss
Were far too ingrained with the mundane and dross
With eyes closed and arms crossed we slice like a knife
through the world we don’t live in…. You can’t call this life.