Corporate torpor is not what I was made for, letter from Shanghai

The boredom seeps through as the work seems more inane,
The things I’m paid to do, buzz an annoying cheap refrain,
Money becomes numbers and loses all it’s worth,
A million dollars, a million lives, I’m buried in this dearth
Of meaningless, structure less, feelingless endeavour
Time stands still, my heart slows down, what happened to "fuck forever"?
The things that mean so much are on the other side of my mirror
It’s my reflection and my choice to be my conscience's killer
All for the green, the buck and the good queen’s pound
I sweat and curse for all I’m worth, my mad feet on the ground,
Instead of in the air, where my post pubic dreams once flew,
I sit here in this fucking room, crying volcanic just for you
And why I chose to walk this path on the other side of the sea,
My throat tightens, my eyes wet squint, when I realize that it’s me
Who is the root of the heartbroken truth that money brought me here,
When you are far away from me and are all I that I hold dear.
The race of rats I ‘ve joined, in silent sewers shit deep
The boardrooms and office blocks into which my soul does seep
Are things that I have chosen over smiles pretty and make up free,
I've become everything that I never wanted to be
And death is not an option for a coward who made a choice
Yet living is such a torpid game when you've cashed in your childhood voice.