I was living a life,
Sufficient enough to bake an apple pie,
From time to time I drank Guinness and not to bad of a Wine,
But when I am at work,
I do calls at a cubicle and it feels better than
Or a builder,
Or a carpenter,
Not as efficient but still better.
And when I die,
I will die at a cubicle and when I am in heaven
There will be no cubicles
But neither constructions too,
There would be me watching down on Earth,
Watching humans die their deaths at cubicles too.