Workers without a master are just rogues without a goal
Fumbling, mumbling, and tumbling around
Without working, without toll
The workers of today have no shell or soul
Alike ants without their queen, they are just mounds
Everything is not what it seems
Everything could just be a dream
What is reality even
Is it just a priest’s preachings and amens
Is it just a king’s tale and his omens
Or is it sinners and their confessions
In reality, we’re all lost.