John T. Wurzer - Cybercommuter

Every hour of every week you're playing smart phone hide and seek
On call and reading emails night and day
There's no such thing as peace and quiet, and though you try hard to deny it
There is darkness in your heart won't ever go away
You're forever on the clock, sometimes wound up, sometimes in shock
Sometimes you fool yourself into thinking that you're fine
While every dead creative seed, watches your passion wilt and bleed
You can't figure out why you need to be working all the time

Working overtime is working over, everyone who is overworking themselves
It's a sickness; it must be metabolic; cyber-spaced out workaholics
Searching for salvation through portfolios of wealth
Focus now and be the job
The job is you, you are the job
Logistics and statistics on your phone
In this traffic jam of telecommuters, notebooks, tablets and personal computers
You never have to drive to work, but you never get to come back home

They pay you weekly one fixed rate; don't matter if you stay up late
Don't matter if you're logged in till it hurts
While the nine to fiver's always laugh at; someone who's free of rush hour traffic
Bitchin' about their job, from their couch in an old t-shirt
While the benchmarks, standards, corporate goals; and your ever changing rolls
Have your cell phone ringing 24 - 7
The cyber-worker, slave from home, gets no respect, feels all alone
Living in the combat zone, being told it's heaven

Written by:
John Wurzer

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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