Do what you want with these pieces of my brain, they're yours now. (if you want to give me constructive criticism/tips, contact me)
There’s discarded plastic floating around
A cramped grungy kitchen
Everyone here is crazy,
They think it’s human
But it’s fake, it all is. Nothing about this is real.
Wake up, stay with me. Can you hear me. What’s your name, son?
Wake up.
Maybe the plastic is really human, I might have lied to you
Let’s pretend the plastic is human now; No one is crazy,
Except you. You thought it was plastic. It was never plastic.
Wake up.
Now that we know everyone is human, look in the mirror. What do you see?
Plastic, you thought that didn’t you.
You show people the mirror and they see people. (Crazy). Wake up. Can you hear me.
You go back to doing your job; with this many orders coming through the kitchen,
There’s no time to debate reality.
The Dishwasher keeps you grounded, he moves through the line to give you more plates,
You want to hide
You want to hide in the back with him and listen to his music to feel real again.
Get back to work. Why are you back here. There are orders to be made, sport.
The manager sounds different here.
The walls are different here.
You’ll be fine, everyone goes through this. Wait until you have to pay taxes.
Wait until you know what real stress is.
The world is not ending, wake up.
Everyone has a little anxiety, wake up.
If you think that’s bad, look at what I’m going through. Wake up.
don't mind my shitty poetry.