Inside a straight jacket he walks
His black business suit never wrinkling

The metallic laptop at his side holds his life
He is a prisoner of the business world

With a grim expression on his face
He turns the corner at a sharp, right angle

The man is a zombie, lifeless and loving it
Or so one would assume

Still trapped inside his perfect posture and "budget blues"
He continues at his robotic pace

The bachelor's thoughts of stocks
Never leave his determined mind

When he does veer from his set course
The man walks into a McDonald's bathroom

Not even caring to use a stall
He unzips his pants and gradually releases all his unsatisfied wanting

Once he has pleased himself sufficiently
The businessman composes himself back to his robotic state

And taking the time to whistle at
A younger woman while he walks out

Of the McDonalds, he continues
On his way to the sterile office that he resides in

When the man reaches his destination
He sits at his desk and turns on

His metallic laptop
To check on his money more efficiently

His secretary pages him,
Saying that his ex- wife is on the phone

But he is too busy with work
To acknowledge another being.