Trapped with a briefcase, and nowhere safe to run.
Trapped in suits, well polished boots,
entombed within a company car,
and I don't even want to think about who'd care if I was dead,
another photo of the family cleaned from impure-air, office, open-
planning how I'd free myself, vanish into the night,
leave the world, escape by plane into another future for me,
lives spent working wind away to futures possible,
let me float away, escape this gravity's pull.

Maybe I just think too hard about where I want to be,
but wasting life in a corporate kitsch seems so not what I want for me,
and I couldn't even think about who'd care if I was dead,
too late then to make a difference,
too late then to try achieve something worth-
while away my life pursuing money and fast cars,
while away my health pursuing deadlines, stress-related illness waste-
the summer days in front of monitors and phones.
A faceless man that no-one really knows.