Who could  think that work might be a sin?

Our narcotic is excessive work
Who could  think that work might be a sin?
Thinking numbs the heart in sadness stuck

Learning mathematics,feeling pert
Latin Greek and music, what a din
 Our narcotic is excessive work

I wonder if my cello I could pluck
Its metal strings  made grooves upon my skin
Abstraction numbs the heart in sadness stuck

If we feel, our feelings make us hurt
We kick the nearest person on the shin
Today’s narcotic is excessive work

With our government we  stay alert
We can’t be quiet inside when all’s maudlin
Exotic symbols numb the heart so stuck

We feel the pricks of many sharpened pins
The  conscience of the soul is wearing thin
Our narcotic is excessive work
Thinking numbs the heart in  angst now stuck