by Emmit Other
Time to wake up
The dream is over
Put that magic sword away
Youve gotta make some dough
No not the famous chef kind
Just the daily grind thats slow
Get your coffee
Get your car
Drive to work
Its not that far
Just a two hour commute both ways
Its barely enough
To make it through both days
Time to wake up
Time to get a grip
Your dreams have ended
The coffee's on french drip
Smell the eggs
Smell the toast
Join the death march coast to coast
From your bed where dreams come true
To work where they go to die
......
......
......
OK there might be hope
But Im not gonna lie
The odds are long like your hours
You are probably gonna die
From a world thats boiling
The sky is on deep fry
Sure you might win the lottery
So flap your arms and try to fly
Odds are you will just look like a fool
But dreams can all come true
Flap your arms and fly away
Since you might be still asleep too
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.