One hand asketh and the other taketh away.
With so many faces trained
To cultivate the rat's ass nothing
The world gives for human striving
How is it that others are to blame
For not getting all one wants?
How shitty service and POS product
Are the reasons for dreams unfulfilled,
Dreams of food always delivered
When one is hungry
And not a moment before,
Dreams of every moment being full
Of something that doesn't suck or bore,
Dreams, most of all, of not having to do
What one would prefer not to do.
It's the ultimate insult, if one
Doesn't want to, why should one have to?
No one has ever answered that question,
Because it seems it's built in to people
Not to ask, like an extra chromosome,
Those fuck-lucky people
Whose skin isn't ripped to the last nerve
By idiots and assholes who won't do
Their fucking job and serve.
There's a warm place for complaint
In the human heart, such compassion
For grievance, it's so hard to see
How we are one in suffering:
The shivering tin can collector
Who reclines by the trash in the river
And the one who's had his Maserati,
The only ride worth having, taken away
For bullshit drunk driving citations.
And in that gap, an enmity forms.
How can the same heart
That reaches as wide as the cosmos
Hold so much?
There must be a catch.
It does not compute.
So the hurricanes rage from the eye.
