I have questions but the answers allude me,
Simple questions like what is it meant to be free.
I mean we all think we are but in reality not,
Obligations are heaped on us throwing us from the top.
We have bills to pay and deadlines to meet,
We are not the type to just sit on our seat.
So off to work we go and raise the dough,
Not many of us can afford not to, you know.
The golden spoon has turned to rust and its not any more nine to five,
It usually is ten to twelve hours a day of toil, digging our graves into the soil.
We work until we retire and then we are too old to care abut life,
Years of working and living with the bills, strife and kids and the wife.
Should we not be turtles and stick our heads into our shell,
The ostrich with his head in deep and in the air his tail.
It crept up on us this life of day to day,
Only once in a while to sit in the sun and absorb the ray.
Is it really that bad, then take the day off and tell your boss you will come in when you want,
Yeah you really can do that and play intrigue with your butt on your detente.
Do not get kicked in the behind by the slamming door,
Life is tough and just when it gets bad there is more.