Chained to the Wheel

The White Anglo-Saxon Protestant Work Ethic is a con job, and as we subscribe to the con, we find ourselves locked into the consequences.

These days, it seems, we live our lives in strangled desperation.
Like little mice, trapped in the wheel, each day another iteration.
Repetition, repetition, repeating the same routine,
We do it ‘til we drop, or fade, grey cogs in a grey machine.

You think money gives you freedom? You think it gives you power?
You’re still chained like a slave to the wheel, hour after hour.
Desperation, desperation, can’t you taste its smell?
Imprisoned by expectations, you bark at the sound of the money bell.

You think you’re liberated, ‘cos you’re not chained to a kitchen sink?
Take a look around you, sisters, take some time to think.
Compromises, compromises, sacrifices, too,
Grinding your nose against a different stone, you’ve been suckered, too.

Nobody’s free, we’re all prisoners, it shouldn’t come as a shock,
We’re punching in, and punching out, we’re all watching the clock.
Corporations, corporations, they all own our lives,
They’ll end up owning our children, and their husbands and their wives.

Repetition, repetition, repeating the same routine,
We do it ‘til we drop, or fade, grey cogs in a grey machine.
Desperation, desperation, can’t you taste its smell?
Imprisoned by expectations, you bark at the sound of the money bell.
Compromises, compromises, sacrifices, too,
Grinding your nose against a different stone, you’ve been suckered, too.
Corporations, corporations, they all own our lives,
They’ll end up owning our children, and their husbands and their wives.


© Copyright David Burne 1998, All Rights Reserved