Work Sucks
Well, I woke up this morning
For my own prime time,
Hoping swarming senses
Might light into rhyme.
With caffeine and nicotine,
My morning jump start,
I was searching for the union
Of the head and the heart;
But time won’t linger for a groggy old muse.
I had to get ready for my daily abuse.
Work sucks!
Work sucks!
You sell your soul for a coupla bucks.
In the place where they call me
A human resource
I’m nothing but another
Cheap and common work horse.
I left my apartment
With a somber sigh.
My beergnats were kissing
All my empties goodbye.
I had on my mandatory
Worker’s disguise
When I abandoned my oasis
For the flourescent skies.
I greeted my boss;
But what I wanted to say
Was, “Beat me with a hammer;
And we’ll call it a day.”
Work sucks!
Work sucks!
You trade your soul for a coupla bucks
If I didn’t have habits
Such as hunger and thirst,
I wouldn’t lift a finger
But the one by the first.
Up from rags to riches
By your own bootstrap
Only works for workers
Who are the cream of the crap.
So you self-made believers
Of your own ballyhoo,
Would you please refrain from telling me
I oughta be you.
I don’t need money
Just to prove who I am;
And the prizes you are winning,
Well, they ain’t worth a damn.
Work sucks!
Work sucks!
You sell your soul for a coupla bucks.
If my back can still hold up
While my boss gets success,
I can still be rewarded
With a heart attack from stress.
We fought a great battle,
Our fearless leaders said,
To stop facism before it could spread.
We fought another battle over equality,
Which never quite trickled down to you and me.
We fought our first battle over royalty reign;
But everything we fought against,
We fought to retain.
Work sucks!
Work sucks!
You trade your soul for a coupla bucks.
Now the facists run our businesses
For royalty’s gain;
And they call me a commie
If I dare to cpmplain.
Now Paul, when interpreted
To sound like a jerk,
Says they shouldn’t eat
Who will not work.
If only he was present
In our present day,
He might change his opinion,
Seeing greed seeking prey.
He might just remember
That work was a curse;
And I could finish my poem
Just ahead of the hearse.
Work sucks!
Work sucks!
You trade your soul for a coupla bucks.
If I ever get to heaven
And find Adam up there,
I’ll hang him by his balls
And spend eternity elsewhere.
.