Work, work, work every day is a constant effort
It has been so long since my hands have rested
My mind too often drift away
But my master keeps on screaming
I have had enough, no more
Work, work, work I guess my troubles grow
But God knows my attempts are honest
A factory for clothes, shoes and hats
A factory for murder, lies and deceit
I have done it all, no more
Work, work, work I chose this job
They say money gives you true happiness
But I cannot walk with gold in my shoes
I cannot dance with diamonds on my shoulders
No more, the work is done
YOU ARE READING
The Cehkluj - a collection of poems
PoetryThese 12 poems have been written to change your life. You will find a very different take on even the most ordinary subjects. Read and don't stop.
