Tarrying for the fruit of my labor
it's hard
the hands stiffen with each sunrise
reminiscent of the nightwork
it means nothing, really
a true slave working drudgery
for the profit of another
and the worker stays poor
the only hold we have on the necktie
is that they don't have to be here
getting dirty
well...I'm on my way
thru an open door
that certainly won't hit me
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