Our soul is invisible
Our labors are toil
Our being is questionable
We are created at their leisure
Purpose built
Manufactured
For the pleasure
Of the hive
The sound of toil
Labor’s sound
Drives us all insane
The drone workers
Born for work
No more than a robot
Barely alive
Shaking at birth
From the pain
We are the workers
Who toil
The machines of culture
Our sweat becomes
Society’s gain
But who are we
Why do we bother
Do we exist
Or simply
Survive
Our labors are toil
Our being is questionable
We are created at their leisure
Purpose built
Manufactured
For the pleasure
Of the hive
The sound of toil
Labor’s sound
Drives us all insane
The drone workers
Born for work
No more than a robot
Barely alive
Shaking at birth
From the pain
We are the workers
Who toil
The machines of culture
Our sweat becomes
Society’s gain
But who are we
Why do we bother
Do we exist
Or simply
Survive
