We hold the cards, the dealers deal, from a doctored pack.
Don’t know the game, nor the rules, bettin’ the ranch on sweet payback.
We dream our dreams, then realise, our plans have come to naught.
Look back in rage/anger, at bygone days, while others had all the fun.
Not goin’ t’torture myself a moment longer, I’ve paid my dues ‘n’I’ve done my time.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, an’ I bin missin’ you all my life!
Better late than never!
Our innocence, and child-like trust, so wet behind the ears.
Evil commands, keep us in line, playing on our fears.
Obedient, under control, mindless automatons.
Only time, awakened ire, can break our unjust bonds.
We toe the line, nose t’the grind(stone), with no end in sight.
Muscles decay, hair thin ‘n’ grey, too late we see the light.
©20.5.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman
We play the cards we are dealt, from a crooked pack.
Don’t know the game, told the rules, bettin’ the house on sweet payback.
We dream our dreams, then realise, that day will never come.
We play the cards, we are dealt, from a doctored pack.
Look back in rage/anger, missing out, the others had all the fun.
Only time, and tired ire, can break our unjust bonds.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, to deny this would be a crime:
We toe the line, a daily grind, with no end in sight.
Muscles decay, hair turns grey, before we see the light.