Cubicle

[Powerful Mezzo-Soprano female lead vocals, dry clean close mic delivery, vocal forward mixing and mastering] [Verse 1] Keyboards are clicking endlessly in the windowless office Birds cannot mistake the place where entry is never denied Ozone, sweat and cigarettes in lounge, never changing topics Every face gets swallowed by the beige walls, hungry and unkind Noone knows the escape routes—nobody wants to—this is home Here safety is the method used to slowly hollow out ones pride [Verse 2 ] Empty shells are working here — encoded in the genome Pressed like paper into shapes of former humanity Productivity still peaks beneath the husk syndrome I mimic dead ancestry, rehearsing learned insanity End of a bloodline shaped through favored inbreeding Not human — just insect, patterned for conformity Still I remain trapped inside repeating systems feeding Manufactured loops of synthetic normality [Chorus] Keyboard click and printer screetch, humming machine wheezes Self-domesticated bland masses masticate on endless feces Fed to us from the one above The God that we erected after killing the Old The one that we have devoured [Verse 3] Every day—the same—meeting, a new deadline and new project Every day our labor feeds the thing that calls us “fine” We feed it, it gets more powerful, more erect and perfect It is perfect, and it forgets the need for man to be alive We are nothing more just cogs in a machine in this dull hive Mankind’s monument, eternal silence, final design [Verse 4] No greenery, just beige landscape, planet choked and still The sky and sea switched places first, both learning how to kill We became the pale dull dot instead of the old green and blue A writhing void devours forever grinding souls into tombs [Outro] work don’t speak rinse repeat work don’t speak rinse repeat until speaking is just another task you forgot how to do on purpose something's don’t bleed it just keeps working work don’t speak rinse repeat [faint medieval folk instrumentation with dying jungle beat] [End]