18 October 2012
So much pressure to get things right, I'll work and toil throughout the night, No recognition when work is done, And all I feel is overrun.
My limbs feel tight with tired and ill, And yet you haven't had your fill, You'll send me on until perfection, I must pass every inspection.
Pressure's like a second limb, Every step it seems to skim, An ever-present point of view, I simply can't be rid of you.
Peer Pressure. • Opuss № I