Just another year
Living in a small town
Two summer odd years without a job
Is really pissing me off
Got my writing
Keeps my mind occupied
Gives me the feeling
I've left something behind
Every syllable laid to rest
On a blank sheet
Relieving me of some unwanted baggage
Still, every Tuesday
Got to collect the dole
In the local post office
Nothing lowers the morale faster
Than a hand-out
For a want to be working man
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