A robot asylum.

A friend of mine was working,
As a buerocrat downtown,
Thinkig about quiting,
Because the job makes him dead inside.

Surrounded by people,
Who act as machines,
Just working the papers,
With nothing to say.

So he kept whining,
Saying it's bad,
When he finally lost it,
He asked for advice.

I told him to suck it,
Or find a new job,
I too was once in a robot asylum,
But now it's nearly over?

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Bad rhymes, shit thoughts®.

Ziga