A Losing Game

Nine of five ain't nothing more
than slavery in disguise
Measly little pay check is just there
to blind your eyes
Work and slave your life away
For what? You'll never know
It's a losing game.

Everyday -- A dead end street with dreams that
never come
Your only hope is sixty- five when the
rat race is all done
Children getting older-- Maybe now you'll
have some fun?
It's a losing game.

When you're old and grey, you'll take a
trip around the world
Slave days finally over -- All is fine
and well
The idols you have worshipped -- They won't
save your soul from hell
It's a losing game.

by Frank Cadillac

Comments (1)

This poet is brilliant and has an unparalleled style.