Prison? Or is it?

We sit here day by day,

Listening to all our captors say.

Each day different, but each day the same.

Can someone tell me why it's this way?

We have no choice, there's no escape.

Each day a little more of us they take.

Some would say it's not that bad.

Others would recall fun times they had.

Many would smile, tell of things that made them glad.

As I think about it, I guess it's okay.

But still I'll be found here, day by day.

Listening to all my captors say.

Each day different, but each day the same.