Do this. Do that. Do something.
And then do it for a while.
Never stop, get a trade and work,
And try to fucking smile.
Now please count yourself lucky
But not lucky enough to count.
Every penny that you earn
Is not a big enough amount.
For you to shuffle off this shit hole
Unless a forceable adieu
So we work until we’re old
Bitter, brittle and we’re through.
It takes courage and conviction
We’re our own land lords.
In control of our eviction
As we’re swallowing the swords
Double edged with misery
Both sides seeming like a loss
Our work load filled with agony
Yes we’re a wanker of a boss.
But we can’t dismiss ourselves
So we keep calm and carry on.
The poison perched upon the shelves
But our strength to lift it’s gone.
Each day more taxing than the last
We watch our futures quickly passed
Our dreams like pest so swiftly gassed
They die, our hope hangs at half mast
And so we watch as some retire
Those on cruises, those on pyres
Some as hero’s, some as liars
Some as zeros. Most as criers.
Question what they’re saving for
Dying lessened, craving more
Realising life was quite a bore
Retiring from… they’re not quite sure.