Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Forty Hours a Week





How did the day get stolen from underneath my feet?

Friends become strangers cause’ there’s no time to meet

Signing in and out of punch clocks and initialing sheets

Trading the sunlight and hours for dollars seems cheap



But I can’t blame it on the man or systematic rat race

As each day I consciously rush to keep with their pace

And each night I return worn and exhausted from haste

Thanking God in the dark shine’s the moon’s patient face

1 comment:

  1. Love it and it's the damn truth. In the end the race in only with ourselves.

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