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ioan pearce
Poems
Mar 2010
the boss
i am the boss, and pay the cost
of your life every week
i'm upper class,so kiss my ***
twice daily on each cheek
you are my slave,until your grave
depend on me for pay
you must obey,all i say
eight hours every day
my status rules,you grateful fools
that grovel to my money
i demand, your grafting hands
feed me milk and honey
yeh, but......
i work for you, and listen to
the ******* and the crap
because i've got two kids to feed
along with mortgage trap
but you don't see, where i ***
when you demand a cuppa
laugh aloud, feeling proud
each time i eat my supper
you spit your ****, i laugh in fits
recall your furrowed frown
the night i painted your new car
and let the tyres down
shout your clout, boss me about
don't care how i'm feeling
but you don't see, where i ***
and everything i'm stealing
Written by
ioan pearce
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