never expected anything, had nothing to give
promoted many times to strive even harder
still there was no storage to put in the larder
I might just quit, what else is there to do?
for a no good bastard of 62
Grasping at happiness, failing at all
many times over there is no drop to fall
career minded slave yet awkwardly blinded
deceit is the gift from trusting in kindness
I know it ends soon then I will go home
though knowing my luck, I’ll be digging up bones
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