It's a job of eating scraps and being complained to
It's a job of waiting waiting waiting
Discomfort and being misunderstood
It's a job where you wish you were on the other side of the fence
but you want to burn the fence down all the same
It's more money but it's never enough
A job
A job where your mistakes are noticed immediately
And your good works are nigh invisible
A job of moving in circles with no appreciable results
For rent, for drink
Futureless
Where the time's so slow but you feel it ripping by
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Sing it to me. Have you been hiding under my desk?
Post a Comment