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Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	22-November 06:54:52 AEST

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Social

Social Class

Contributed by BobbyZimmerman on Friday, 3rd August 2007 @ 11:50:48 AM in AEST
Topic: political

My hands are worked to blood and bone,
I'm weary and I long for home,
The sweat ebbs down by sun burnt face,
If it kills me, I'll be replaced.

I lift and run with all my might,
And damn by working class birthright,
With cuts and bumps and bruise and aches
That can't be healed with what I make.

I live to work I can't deny,
Have little choice, I must get by.
Wake and work and eat and sleep,
I break my back and then I weep.

While my boss boards a chartered flight,
As cash rolls in, it's his birthright.
My long days get him cars and wine
Becausehis father's richer than mine.
God bless America.

Copyright © BobbyZimmerman ... [ 2007-08-03 11:50:48]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Social Class (User Rating: 1 )
by emystar on Friday, 3rd August 2007 @ 12:37:13 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

You did a great job of telling it like it is.
Sad but unfortunatly true.
Awesome work.
huggs,
emy

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