Pressure Lyrics

In dreary cubes of faded steel
and sullen stone, on leveled fields,
formerly green, now washed away,
where cattle gather everyday.
Strinding on reluctantly
through hardship, pain and malady.

Push forward, lacking energy
to barely live comfortably.
The stairs march high yet never soar,
a higher state, not for the soul.
To reach new heights yet, never tell,
no glass to mar this daily cell.

It stands, oppressive, above all,
casts shadows, long, and reaching far.
It towers high above the sea
of greyish thoughts and blackened dreams.
Reaching deep to carry on
in spite of this anthemic song
of grieved and dark, sorrowful wails
heard far and wide across the plains.

The stairs march high yet never soar,
a higher state, not for the soul.
To reach new heights yet, never tell,
no glass to mar this daily cell.
Depressed and drained, it takes its toll,
no rest, no loose nor space at all.
It digs and claws within with ease,
a viral, serpent-like disease.
Its poison seeps into the pores,
pervading deep through countless sores.

It coils and slithers and constricts,
yet no bite mark it needs inflict.
We have fallen, fallen under pressure.