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 my head and my 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 couple of bucks. In the place where they call me A human resource I'm nothing but another Common work horse. So I left my apartment With a somber sigh. The beergnats were kissing All my empties goodbye. I put on my mandatory Worker's disguise And abandoned my oasis For the fluorescent 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 sell your soul For a couple of 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 the folks Who are the cream of the crap. So, you self made believers Of your own ballyhoo Would you please refrain from telling me I ought to be you. I don't need money Just to prove who I am; And the prizes you would die for-- Well they ain't worth a damn. Work sucks! Work sucks You sell your soul For a couple of bucks. If my back can still hold up While my boss gains success I can still be rewarded With a heart attack from stress. We fought a great battle, So our fearless leaders said, To stop fascism Before it could spread. We fought another battle Over equality-- Which never quite trickles Down to you or me. We fought our first battle Over royalty's reign; But everything we fought against We fought to retain. Work sucks! Work sucks! You sell your soul For a couple of bucks. Now the fascists run our businesses For royalty's gain; And they call me a commie If I dare to complain. Now Paul, when interpreted To sound like a jerk, Said we shouldn't eat If we didn't work; But if Paul were present In our present day, He might change his opinion, Seeing greed out for prey. He might just remember How 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 couple of bucks. If I make it up to heaven And find Adam up there. I'll hang him by his balls And seek eternity elsewhere.