Relentless
I wake with a dollar in my head.
Eyes foggy in the dark morning,
The things to get done today
To stand a rung above the rest.
A relentless grind with no end—
At least, no end until the End.
To chase a more efficient way,
And solve the changing riddle.
It works, of sorts, if you are steady,
A willing man with opportunity.
If you work and truly sacrifice
Kin and friend along the path,
Then you, like me, can stand apart
From the throngs of the masses
Who true freedom never know,
At the feed bowl of their master.
You will see them fail in time
And write it off as superiority—
They were never made to make it.
Count them among the cast out,
The worthless and downtrodden
Who will always need a master.
Give them a little assistance,
Give them their monthly pill—
Enough to keep them surviving,
Enough to keep them playing
As the money falls in your funnel.
Their life is like a rental car:
Powerless and lacking options,
Always a new master at the wheel.
Many will try to climb up and away,
If they are willing to cut the ties
And give the machine uniformity.
Their reward, an American dream—
Complete with house and everything.
If they can hold tight on the reins,
Eyes focused on a future tomorrow,
They may keep this enviable change,
Their head held high in society,
Resting each night in anxiety,
Until they wake each morning
With a dollar whirling in their head.
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