Dull Boy

On the grind non-stop, both hands on the clock

Twenty-four seven cause this life is a job

My singular pennies aren't worth gold to fools

Cause he who has the gold in this world makes the rules

Taxes and mortgage they already seek

The 80 in my name goes to hours every week

Two jobs, one life - one day, one night

My cubicle prison hides me from the sunlight

Lost on a cycle, I barely sleep phases

I see no promotion, just CEO raises

My regimen changes as temperament rages

If only my bills had presidents' faces