fauxcroft

We are the sweat

We are the toil,

Others they get

All of the spoils,

We sacrifice

Our life to the grind,

We use our hands,

We use our minds,

To produce

Profit and wealth

For others to live

And in return

We get barely enough

On which to live,

The life of a worker

A long soulless slog,

Fixed in a routine

While those at the top,

Take the cream of the crop

When it comes

To picking lifestyles,

If you thought about it

It would drive you wild

But we simply work

Keep our minds

On the job

And we do not think

Of those at the top,

We simply just

Carry on the slog

And the ritual,

That is our life

That can be pitiful,

As we eek out a living

Day after day,

Telling ourselves

We are happy this way.