if we break free from the nine to five maybe we can salvage our lives and reinstate the boundaries between enterprise and identity because i'm tired of sleeping in, tired of sleeping at the wheel. it feels like i'm cutting myself open trying to feel something new. i pretend i try to live my life as if i'm going to die tonight but i survive, i'm just bruised. everything i do requires an excuse. i feel lost, i feel sold, i feel tired, i feel old. keep trying to get away fast trying to step out of the cold. you'd think that i'd be happy all the things that i have bought, you'd think that i know better, all the things that i've been taught but i am actionless, i am talk, talk, talk. i can hear them in the back of my head, little voices, they're shouting "are we just trying to get paid?"
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