Pushing the Buttons

People grow whiskers but 
Know their life right off the desk
Laptop computers know it was the fodder
That got them jobs
Featherweight fathers 
Know nothing about daughters
And sons be damned
The rest of the buttons are pushing themselves 
To an early grave
Partial schemes, pleasure schemes 
Business shemes, pleasure swells
We all got jobs
Blind spot opinions and millions of readers 
And they pass, we fall
My fear of grown-up's confirmed
When I deal with folks like managers
and the sad minds unwind
And are given to thoughts of happiness
And the broke heart's [inaudible]
And it's given to thoughts of happiness