This excellent Hemingway poem came across my metaphorical desk. As a cubefarmer, the tone sounds distinctly Dilbertian:
The age demanded that we sing
And cut away our tongue
The age demanded that we flow
And hammered in the bung.
The age demanded that we dance
And jammed us into iron pants.
And in the end the age was handed
The sort of shit that it demanded.
— Ernest Hemingway (1922)
Any skilled composers out there want to set this to music?