Just how much 
Can you honk and 
Shout at me now, 
In your native tongue and 
Broken English accent? 
You’re a slave;
Just as I am, 
 
Just as everybody else is. 
 
Slave to the doors of your car. 
Slave to how loud you can scream. 
Slave to the fuel in your car. 
Slave, and only slaves, 
For as far as I can see. 
 
Slave to your kids and your pets. 
Slave to the four walls around you. 
Slave to all your regrets, 
And things you can’t undo. 
 
Slave to all your responsibilites 
And your problems, 
And your anniversaries, 
Your birthdays, 
Work; Margins 
And columns. 
 
Slave to all of what you give, 
Slave to how you were taught to sit, 
To the weather that makes you 
Wear a tank or a knit. 
Slave to that scar you got in a street fight; 
Slave to his hit. 
 
Slave to your uniform and how 
You’re forced to perform. 
Slave to the traffic 
And its red and yellow lights, 
And to me ‘cause I made you yell. 
 
Slave to your years. 
Slave to how much more breath 
Your lungs can pump; 
Slave to each lung. 
 
Slave to being yourself, 
And nothing to another man, 
 
Nothing at all to the 
All-singing, all-dancing 
Crap of the world. 
(Slave to what you 
Cannot talk about)