Walking with no direction

Their brain is dead their hands are cold 

But not a single objection to be behold

Society traps them in a casket of steel walls 

An office graveyard that restrains them all

And nobody can hear their screams 

As they tell and sing of their stolen dreams 

Dreams that once kept them alive

Now they sit in the graveyard from nine to five 

Still they sit there everyday 

And inspire me to not make the same mistake

To trade my dreams for a paycheck a week

I rather live under their harsh critique

To live without passion is not to live at all 

Or so I’ve been told by the great men who fall 

That dreams are priceless so what is life with their absence

A meaningless time before we all shall die 

I will follow my dreams to the end of the earth 

Till I reach a new day and again a new birth