Netcees - the Director wants my soul

Office space creates dystopian states
we should play our role, and know our place
my Spirit sighs flies and hides without a trace
while the mind’s eyes demise coincides with honored fakes
oh that’s so Caulfield, staff beating patients on the ball field
meet and greeting, it’s all sealed so laws yield
repeat the mantra: “the power of punctual and professionally proficient paperwork”
while I am like: “whats the purpose of power if it just makes you a major jerk?”
I say give it to He-man, let the sword of omens swing down sweet chariot
You love your job huh? Well would you marry it?
Just be the boss so that you can heap a burden and never carry it
Then when they break, use lies and double talk to parry it?
So I looked him in his eyes and told him flat out “No” when he asked
Feeling light, knowing my test of selling out had passed
And if this broke your heart, I hope you let me sign it’s cast….

…time has passed and the office space turns into prison
Feeling like there are a million more important reasons for living
My children growing old before my eyes, my love for my wife maturing
I make it a point to walk the grove daily, just to stop the seasons from blurring
It is true that if a man does not work, then neither should he eat
But a man’s work should bolster hope, not aid the cherished sacred’s defeat
They say the good die young, this acts as leaven off in the loaf
Cuz that means we are either old, bad or both
The thin red line ticks across the surface of my perception of life sentence
Work to become old and die doing what most pleases our senses
No wonder Jesus said we had to die and daily tote our crosses
The greatest curse: “May you one day be just like your bosses”
I guess I am lost again, finding out what is true, only through the opposite
Those in power covet power and it appears theres no stopping it
Me? I am just bumping the Amygdaloids, why aint you copping it?