You tell me it's okay

You tell me it's alright

But how do you expect me to sleep tonight?

I'll be awake in this pile of work

That you gave to us.

How are we supposed to think of the future?

How are we to think of what's to come?

When all we have is work when we get home.

We spend 7 hours in that hell-hole.

Is that not enough?

Don't try to make my house feel the same.