Isn't life just great?

We wake up in the morning, and we run like clockwork. The day ends and we rest out exhausted, worn out bio-organic machines we call our bodies.

The sun rises, and we are up and running. Wondering what is the ultimate purpose of doing what we are all accustomed, all scheduled to do. All so regimental. 

In the end, they throw at us a piece of paper. And the numbers on it mean all so much to us. Some continue another set of regimental scheduled routine. Others just move out and find other things that will keep them busy, eventually becoming part of their routine. Work. 

After some years, our bio-organic machines wears out, unable to repair itself. And all that we have done, is left behind. Can't take anything with us. 

So what is the purpose of working so hard now?

Isn't life just great?