There exists a funny sort of man
In society’s throes
He resents those above him
And those below him
Yet he does as he’s told

He wakes up at seven
He brushes his teeth and frowns
Then he eats the same cereal
Every day of every week
As he listens to the dull traffic sounds

Reduced to a shadow with no will
It never occurs to him
To rebel against the tyranny
Because he is convinced
That to be mediocre is normal

And so he lives his mundane life
Until he retires
At which point he finds himself
None the wiser, and desiring more.

To be complicit with the hypocrisy
That society ensconces us with
Is in itself cause for concern
But when we comply and see no benefit
Then it is time to surrender
To the invisible Man up in the clouds.