Asleep at the wheel

Face buried in the phone

Not by ourselves but all alone

They tell us what's in fashion, what we want to be

Keeping us busy, feel accepted but blind, the eyes still don't see

Just robotically capture what they sell,

Keeping us locked in their consumerist hell.

Hurry to work, have to pay for their crime,

And remain chained to non existent time.

Mind by the ego so hopelessly infected,

From nature we are unconsciously disconnected