The Worker Poem
darkness in the sky
and darkness in the eye
the orbs define themselves
and make of this the lies
but you and i
we make our own content
in mosque or mansion or our tent
driven not by what is said
but made of comfort in our bed
of right and wrong
who gives a fuck
of life's rewards
we have our truck
and so we rest from day to day
the jokers think we need the pay
but we will ruin them
day by day by day
and darkness in the eye
the orbs define themselves
and make of this the lies
but you and i
we make our own content
in mosque or mansion or our tent
driven not by what is said
but made of comfort in our bed
of right and wrong
who gives a fuck
of life's rewards
we have our truck
and so we rest from day to day
the jokers think we need the pay
but we will ruin them
day by day by day