you wake up in the morning with the sun burning nightmares out of your eyesand the voice on your alarm clock radio says it's later than you may realizeyou stagger into the bathroom to purge yourself and find a way back to lifebut there's nothing in the medicine cabinet to take away the pain and the strifethe kitchen poisons your body and the television tries to make up your mindand you're trying not to think of killing yourself and leaving it all behindthrow on some clothes and get ready to make your way out into the streetoverworked and underpaid like everyone else you try to make ends meetthe promises politicians make to get elected - don't expect them to keepthere's a reason why religions call their followers flocks of sheepyour company will kick you to the curb just to maintain a bottom lineand no one gives a damn about feelings - not yours not minesome say a small group of people runs everything behind the scenesand if they could they'd slip into your mind and steal your dreamsso if you're feeling downtrodden and the wind is fading from your sailstake warning and take heart in these final words...