Your knees are black and blue
From working so hard. You
Come up with enough air to breathe,
And wonder how it’d feel to be free.
The story of your life is
Defined by hardship. All this
Is a rat-race, it’s so hard
And you fight against foreclosure in the yard.
Time ticks by like a monster,
While you pray you’ll get stronger.
So many hours of toil,
Day with knees against soil.
Oh yes, you want to pull that trigger.
Everything would end, you figure.
What’s the point to all this?
Why can’t you find bliss?
For the same reason
You don’t learn to fly in a season,
Or learn to fly without falling:
So that you can keep trying.