Revenue as a Demon

I'm kept alive in cubicle solitude on intravenous
As if across the universe my life had a purpose
Like a dog on a chain I'm sapped of courage
As bottom of the circuit worker I'm worthless

Unanswered questions linger in our pawn like heads
Will the smallest in humanity over gross revenue matter
As another low level worker slits his wrists
Another just one cubicle over drinks her cup of cyanide
You sit in an office pondering who to fire next
Your so disconnected from us, why don't you step down
Entreat upon us open dialogue or eventually you'll be our demon

Keep us around until we fulfill your purpose
Hire another wave behind us before we're eligible for benefits
No reward of honor for the strongest link in your weakest plan
The sweetest sound is the alarms that resounds
As the mobs steal back the gold they labored for you horded
Just to fill the molding for your elitist elegant crowns

Unanswered questions linger in our pawn like heads
Will the smallest in humanity over gross revenue matter
As another low level worker slits his wrists
Another just one cubicle over drinks her cup of cyanide
You sit in an office pondering who to fire next

Take our scarred hands we'll carve out your demons
Unlike you we don't abandon at a hint of inconsistency
Even a self proclaimed judge and jury admits to bad days
We don't hire in droves expecting a fool to wear the crown