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All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,
But what about all work and all play?
Would it be okay for you then?
My system running on red,
Overdosing on every sign you give me,
Achievements you need me to have.
I can't be mediocre?
Can I not be satisfied?
Maybe I don't need to run,
Or work a hundred years,
Before my demise,
Maybe if I were free
Of the expectations, you have of me,
Maybe then I would know the goal,
Not the one to kick into,
Or work a thousand hours for,
Maybe then I wouldn't run from you,
Maybe then I would be happy.