THIS CUBICLE
I sit inside this cubicle all day
Partitioned off by three walls
My mind feels the same way
There’s got to be somewhere I can escape
No, I can’t close a door
No, I have to use some tape
This cubicle…
It’s well defined…
This cubicle…
The name plate says it’s mine
Well, if that’s true then why can’t I just tear it all apart
This cubicle…
It’s gonna break my heart
This office space seems just like a machine
Moving pieces people
We recycle because we’re green
So many voices chiming everyday
Keyboards, rat-a-tat-tat-tat
Like machine guns in a way
This cubicle…
It’s well defined…
This cubicle…
The name plate says it’s mine
Well, if that’s true then why can’t I just tear it all apart
This cubicle…
It’s gonna break my heart
I hear my name called from another space
I stand to look around
But what I see is my own face
Just another head staring back at me
An office of automatons
What else is there to see
This cubicle…
It’s well defined…
This cubicle…
The name plate says it’s mine
Well, if that’s true then why can’t I just tear it all apart
This cubicle…
It’s gonna break my heart
This cubicle…
It’s well defined…
This cubicle…
The name plate says it’s mine
Well, if that’s true then why can’t I just tear it all apart
This cubicle…
It’s gonna break my heart
Kevin Parish 
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