Sitting on the shelf waiting to continue with my life
But the unobtainable sleeps in the same bed as the economy
I could go all day, everything I have to say, prayers to the otherside
Not what you think, not the couldy sun more like the stained gates
When I'm down on my knees begging "please, I need, a job and some money" and so far
I've been satisfied with the answers they give me
The lord and savior ignored me, I went the other route, some call it the left lane, I call it the path of the flame, while still staying sane looking for miracles in old pants pockets, but the amount is the same, less than two zeros, this is the country of depression and action heroes, and awarded idiots for doing what we frown upon.
I'm losing my consciousness, trying to sleep away my days, if it doesn't make a dollar then it doesn't pay, what doesn't pay becomes another burden of pain, in the circulation of earning green,