five different jobs not a single day away
wanting success, keen to be blessed
yet secretly, deep down, wanting caress
working in a greyhound stadium with my dad
on the tote, a brass museum piece clad
painting, selling, Amway was bad
so many jobs, not a university grad
years have gone, still without a song
never to join a rich man’s throng
not up for the challenge, can’t be bothered
work, wore my life thin, then I felt smothered
Just like John Lennon, a working class hero
who created nothing then went to zero
intelligently stupid, a rich man’s tool
living a life, yet feeling the fool
When I die, it will not be long
To join Jesus or Elvis to sing my own song
then he’ll say to me ‘come along’
There is a staircase for painting and it’s very long
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