I need a job.
I need some cash.
Nothing too intense.
Something that won’t last.
Jobs can defeat you,
grind you up and eat you
in a double meat patty
of rage and disillusionment.
All around me,
people stare
like they’re anyplace
else but here.
If you want respect,
get a dog, not a job.
See yourself here
in ten years?
Run!