I really don’t like my second job.
I really don’t like my second job.
I really don’t like my second job.
and I really want to quit,
but how poor is too poor,
‘n I ain’t yet starvin’,
so I ain’t yet artin’,
‘n I just want a job with words,
with words,
‘n it ain’t a bold line seperatin’ me from that angry poet,
but there don’t seem to be much money in them diction sunsets,
ain’t shelter in them perfectly built lines.
‘n ain’t it, ain’t it a shame,
to put so much stock in a skill that ain’t gonna sell.
