Sour Ideals

I don’t believe in second chances,
Just the point I am trying to make.
To lay next to you in the cool morning hours,
Is the only port I am trying to reach.

I can’t be more then what I strive for while awake,
My dreams point to more.
But, to those delirious aspirations I wait,
‘Cuz It is always tomorrow and a promise,
That I must forsake today, in some hope to make.

I carry a burden that you don’t control,
The boss man works me sour,
And to his fortune,
I daily hate to endure.
The facts that my ideals are more than can be handled,
Or for the working man whore,
To his life and daily chore, Easily swallowed.


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