You see them hug their wives and kids
As they hurry off to work at morn
Only if things were truly as they appear to be
Then the smiles and laughter will ring on.
But as they walk into their offices
And exchange pleasantries with other men
Someone reminds them of the unpaid salaries
Now climbing from eleven to twelve months.
Yet they feign that all is well
Unwilling to get out and move
They think that action means the end
When a bold step can bring great good.
So everyone smiles in their sickness
Happy to laugh in their lack
Accepting their roles as zombies
And doing nothing, just sitting back.