Droped I am. They all are grey. Work and workers, all they know. In my world, we don’t yell, get angry or have deadlines. It’s just always good and every days a treat. It’s strange to me it seems they’re lost Perhaps they’ve lost what they’ve been dreaming of They don’t know they live a lie, trying to make sense of what is false, trying to make it work living “life” in borrowed time.