Winter, summer, spring and fall,

We desperately try to hold it all,

With bandaged hearts and broken wings,

We fallen angels raise our heads and sing.

With advertising space in our minds,

We realize words can cause our binds,

Chains hold and pull us down,

Keep us firmly on the ground.

Dreaming has caused an awful sin,

People can’t tell where they have been,

Like sheep following the single line,

Each step a passing in time.

So now I wonder what I am to do,

Where life will lead me through,

Struggling to foot the bill,

Constantly getting ill.

Not a cent to my name,

Like starting again,

Food short, Tempers Flaring,

My music is blaring.