too busy fuckin' Bs

you wake up (sometimes in the shower, other times when you get to work), have a coffe and get your lazy ass in the car. drive for 1 hour to the office and spend 9 more chained to your desk. Sometimes you have lunch, other times fun, but most of the times you don't have the nerve to say fuck off, i don't need this.
and so you get trapped in some sort of mind altering machine that displays your possible well being as an end to your stupid-job-means.
you believe, you hope, you work and in the end you're nothing but this fucked up slave.
no mind of your own. you’re told when and where to pee, when to wake up, when to get to work, when to eat, when to fuck. and you do it proudly. just as you’re taught/told. because you're dying to attain the end. sometimes it's that forever end, other times it's not that radical, but not even close to what you have expected.
whatever happened to running barefoot in the mountainish rain, to snogging in the morning for hours, to fucking the job and going for a picnic in the woods, to lay in the sun and have your lover stroke your bony back with a straw of grass, to just laughing for no reason?
could I get more rhetorical than this?
it’s a good thing we have movies, videos and commercials to put that stuff into, while we keep this working-spending cycle alive and never get to that promised end which is as fake as the money we make and the stuff we think it buys us.