Day after day we grind the grind,
Working away, the body and the mind,
Goals to reach, things for proof,
A need for bread, and a need for a roof.
Week after week we grind away.
Making a living? No, working for pay!
Mouths to feed, feet to shoe,
Not time enough to think about you.
Month after month the grind goes on.
Becoming mindless, and feeling numb.
One more passes, then another.
Sometimes wondering why do we bother.
Year after year - grind, grind, grind.
Our souls destroyed, our hearts unkind.
The roof is ours, and we have our bread.
Such a shame, cause now our spirits are dead.....
I think the sooner we get away from the grind, the better chance we have of living a long, pleasant and fruitful life.
Ron
budd
Roger