That runway that I walk down? I own it,

With my lab coat and my ibuprofen

Because I walk for a living I must have a whit of wit?

I’m making explosions in the lab while I suffer from an implosion,

“You’re incapable of multi-tasking,

You either choose this, or that”

Thanks but I didn’t think that I was asking,

I’d rather entrepreneurship be my crack

I can’t get rid of it; it has its own source of morphine,

Joggers and chinos, pills and scales

I’ll count the prescription while pausing and walking

While dragging my coat tails

But you won’t accept that, and all that I believe,

So when that curtain closes, and a pill wheels to center runway, then I’ll be relieved