I sit in a room with a pen and a pad, Was called a failure by most, I needed to show the potential I had. The same people that turned into ghosts Were the same who said they were glad I never gave up, they were cheering me on. Thinking on my past, everyone was gone No one wanted to see the levels I was thinking. I'm sorry, I can never give up on dreaming. If all this life is, is a nine to five, I don't feel I am even alive.
You can work a soulless job, don't get me wrong, Everybody needs some cash for food, But working your life away seems wrong, That concept isn't new. They'll tell you life is all about money, Material greed that keeps you running Still the heart of your body wants something Deep down you know the truth.
Your worth is only measured in printed paper For someone to cut you down with later. Week after week you get that paycheck Still questioning if you have their respect, Still questioning if you have self-respect. Until the day, they need you, you don't need it. However today, I sit with this pen Digging deep for the inspiration Not to quit.