Work is hard, work is tough
It ain't easy, it's all rough

You wake up too early, you come home too late
This is a smelly pit stop on the road to your fate

There's sweat on your forehead, your pits, and your ***
Everything more expensive now, clothes, heat, food, and gas

The people you deal with have no care to be nice
Will you get a break today, a roll of the dice

Your coworkers are tools, your boss is a ****.
But I guess that is why it is called work

when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity