Phantom Pain

I work in vain

From phantom pain

These limbs I‘ve seen depart

They‘ve come to take away my labor‘s fruit

And come to steal my heart

For half the man I was at times

I‘ve slowly learned to spite

As if the views I held were wrong

And all the guilt I felt was right

But, well, I had to buy those things back then

And money did the trick

I spent my summers doing jobs

To buy the ticket picking fix

I built a picket line around my hopes

And prayed they‘d stay inside

But as they did I watched them slowly die

I quickly learned to cope

Now I‘m stuck betwixt these many gigs

And most of which I hate

I only like the work that doesn‘t pay

These words I write too late

But I have to wake up early now

For mondays are for tours

And if I don‘t sell my soul for cash

my friends will think I’m poor