7:17 Thursday
One more hour to go today
Then 14 left till I come back
Tomorrow
And 8 of those
I抣l sleep away
Leaves me 6 to relax and enjoy
Such is the life of the hourly worker
Everything抯 divided to hours on a clock
And dollars on the paycheck
Twice a month
And we抣l never be out of here
Off white walls
This black desk top
Or the coffee stained carpet
Of the break room floor
It抯 all I see day in and year out
A never ending cycle of nothing
And it抯 killing me.
It抯 tearing my soul out through my eyes
And the life from my heart
I don抰 want to die here
Shut down the circuitry
Lights off
Zipper up
Walk out into
The rain
To drive the same roads
That lead me back to here.
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Finnegan's Wake
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd;
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of the whiskey he was born
And to help him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.
cho Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!
One mornin' Tim was feelin' full
Hi
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd;
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of the whiskey he was born
And to help him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.
cho Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!
One mornin' Tim was feelin' full
Hi