One more morning for the mundane master
how did your life become such a boring disaster?
it's all proof read, edit, return to sender
you coulda been somebody, coulda been a contender
it's all rows, columns, figures and microsoft word
life forgot about you, or hadnt you heard?
it's all select, copy, paste, double click, repeat
children could have thrown fresh roses at your feet
it's all cubicles, screen savers and water coolers
some men are born slaves and others, to be rulers
it's all small talk, gossip, flat jokes and stale breath
you think anyone will mourn your death?
It's everything you hoped you would never become
it's the soulless survival to which you succumb
it's the small checks that sidestep you into the taxman's pocket
it's the plight of the pencil pushing prophet.
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2 comments:
i hate that show, the contender, think it's kinda dumb and they all over-act, like most reality shows anyway...
nwayz,thats not the point, that was kinda pointless, like the life of the "pencil-pushing prophet"... well, maybe not, maybe his job don't give him purpose and meaning, and maybe he feels his existance in "souless"... and also maybe, just maybe, he does what he has to do to support a family that very much values him, a family that's his sole reason for getting up every morning to the "rows, columns, figures and microsoft word"...i mean, i know many men and women who do just that...
nwayz, i really should stop adding my silly little ideas to ur worship-worthy poems...
this is like the new Building the Nation, isn't it? i certainly think it is.
you know, my life nearly turned out like that and i hadn't yet even began living it! thanks fot this.
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