Another One for the Recycle Bin

I don't like the girl,
But she makes a good point
So I salute her with all my creaky joints...
I've done this much too often,
My nine to five heartbeat
Taking the same congested routes
On the same congested streets

We wear our pulses on our wrists
And each time the hand reaches twelve once more
We feel the same way we did one year before

So we find out we're predictable
And sometimes a bit hypocritical,
But we know how it ends
At least on our part
So there's no use to pretend
And go back to the start
Each time,
Each rhyme
The same as before
So wake yourself up
And get off of the floor!