i hate you, and i wish you were dead,
because if you were dead,
i could remember you kindly,
my memory would be of
how you cared for me,
not how you hurt me.

i could reflect on us fondly,
without every memory tainted
by how you left me all bone,
that vultures could not find
anything left to pick of me.

there would be no need
to think about what you were up to
every single day.
i would think of you rotting,
and how i wished you could stay.

i wouldn't pace aimlessly,
my head cold like the winter sky,
knowing you are out there living,
vivacious, carefree,
not giving a **** about me.

i do not wish to have unmet you,
but i do wish you dead.
instead i'm grieving someone
who's still alive.

There's a laboring force
That runs out its course
Through men that I know
Who are worked to the bone

With fingers that bleed
To satisfy hungers need
From the calloused hands
Of the working man

Bringing to light
From morning to night
Collars of blue
Work's all they do

The working man
Making his plans
Of the things that he can't
While dreaming he can

With the breaking of backs
Over what all they lack
Life is nothing but hard
In the labor yard

Where far less is saved
In the give away
Taking its toll
On both young and old

With the showing of hands
Those living in debt
More often than not
Is the working man's lot

With the dreams they hold
That maybe one day
They'll have enough saved
To pay for their grave

Please, please,
Don't be a ghost discreetly -
Please, please,
Don't let me go completely.

Greed and ambition are not bad...but they should act as a positive
motivating force and not as a negative consuming force...think of it like this...Water under a boat is necessary and helpful but when the same water rises above the boat it becomes threatening and dangerous.