MY JOB
My kind of jobThat made a JOB
Made meignorant of my city
Ignorant of my state
Ignorant of the happenings inin the present stake
So much rooms for stress
So much little to raise
Keeping time at the dark noon
Reminding mind of the work moon
Waking up before the dark dawn
Waking up the crow cork
Coming late when darkness blinds the eye
LATE-When darkness makes man to seek for fire
The sweat in my job hurts more than the scorching sun's rays
And the pence worth could not last for fifteen days
My core thinking emanicipated my brain with eruption
Was it the kind that put bread on the table?
If they thought
Then shame must be to their label
MMM''' My job
The job that worth me stress than joy
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