Paradox

Self imprisoned closet hangers learn to love their live's.
Wealth envisioned in the way of hoarding great respect and love.
Always running freedom seekers often find just what they are looking for.
Byways strumming escape songs luring off the reckless fools.

Hung-over again.
The light bill's due.
The mailman's no friend.
His arrival I rue.

Self inflicted scars reflecting stubbornness in wrongfully having strived.
Stealth vindictive years strengthen faith in the notion of a God above.
Finding pleasure over time from never walking out the door.
Binding treasures gathered in are nothing more than imprisonments tools.

Bad times are here.
The car's out of gas.
Got no money for beer.
My sanity won't last.

Society knows exactly how to keep its most productive citizens in line.
Reckless fate is visualized in the papers each and every day.
Sobriety shows examples of prosperous wealth and respected joy.
Feckless hatred born of poverty and ignorance fills too many hearts.

Depressing times.
The refrigerator's bare.
Unemployment lines.
No one seems to care.

Rewards coffin lies in wait made of oak and lined with silk so fine.
Striving hard throughout our lives to try and stay out of harms way.
Discord often serves to remind that life is not a child's toy.
Thriving lard sustains itself upon the starving and torn apart.

Mother died.
The kids on crack.
The company lied.
I want my damn job back.

Michael R. Roth

Archived 07/08/2010