Turn in here at the main gate,
checking your watch for the time,
your anxious not to be late,
impunctuality is a crime.
It is one of those sterile buildings,
functional without form,
and with all those shareholdings
they’ll weather the worst of a storm.
A young man glances up as you enter.
He puts your name in a book.
You press on to the corporate centre
and nobody bothers to look.
In the hallways people drift
in and out of the doorways
and up and down at the lift
and it's this way for ever and always.
You commence pondering ways of escape,
and wonder if it is heaven or hell,
your mind is on a dark landscape
and only the Big Boss can tell.