Property of Better Living Industries

Doctors in gas masks.

Men in white suits,

Come to take your identity

And choose it for you.

They'll tell you you want it.

Then scrub you clean.

Like a freshly cut lawn-

Minus the green.

They will knock down your doors

As they bind your hands

Before sticking you in a white room

Where everything is bland.

No apologies! No regrets!

Nothing to say...

They'll do whatever it takes

To be unfairly paid.

With their orange skin and clean teeth,

Ironically, they're filthy underneath.

They'll take you by the string

And make you dance and or sing.

Whatever it takes to be unfairly paid.

While the rest of us fade away

Slowly into the darkness

Of what used to be,

A rather accepting society.

There is no hope and or time

To what was expected-

A finished rhyme.

For these words to be said.

Unfortunately, there's no money left for you

To finish what you've read.

So please, have a nice day.

And don't forget to look both ways.

Because we're coming for you,

And your rebellious crew.

Sincerely, Better Living Industries