Tuesday, 2 July 2013


Sometimes life is a joke without a punch line
And we're left gasping for air
Clinging to the straws of normality, hoping
But mostly we live without a care
So long as this day and the next day and every day thereafter
Doesn't step outside the line

We work
Work, it's all we know

We are born to serve the common good
To eat the food and to burn the wood
To tread on the heads of the lowly and the weak
To govern our thoughts and what we speak
We were moulded to fit the production line
And given a certain amount of time
To make the best of what we’re given
To come out at the end forgiven
In ill and in health, for the commonwealth

We are the pawns in the game of life

We work
Work, it's all we know
We work
Work, harvest what we sow

From sunrise to sunset
Thinking life is complete
We return to our little patch of lawn
Home, sweet... our domain, our retreat
Holding precious onto possessions we've sold our souls to buy
Began the journey as lovers, grew apart, dissolved with no goodbye

Yet, we work
Work, it's all we know
We work
Work, afraid to disrupt the common flow

And in the end, that inevitable slide
A hole six feet deep and three feet wide
Onto our souls, one last hasty verse
We leave this plane, with no remorse
From all these pressures, we are divorced
Will there be somewhere thereafter to seek recourse
For that we leave behind, stays behind
The final insult, the contract binds
We beg our deity for our souls to be saved
But your conscience is all you can take to the grave