labor rights
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I am made for sweat,
Toil is my life.
The break of day my call.
Twilight finds my back bent over the crops.
The savannah, my playground
My work duty first had me weary
the car was supposed to work in theory
these two had the future looking weary
unknown to me, adulthood was merely one giant query
March, march, march, marching to the beat
The rhythmic pounding of a hundred feet.
From porch to mill, making no profits
The sharp, stinging, rattle of empty pockets.
Cinderella knew her wealth wouldn’t last
For when the market crashed
At the mercy of the dollar
Her blue dress became a blue collar.
Cinderella knew her wealth wouldn’t last
For when the market crashed
At the mercy of the dollar
Her blue dress became a blue collar.
1993
Westside
Sunset Boulevard
SoCal
Los Angeles California
Bring you back to the silver DeLorean, flux capacitor
We got that hover board under the seat.
Fingers moving through a sea of fabric,
The workday almost through, almost time to go home,
No one expected such havoc.
At the drop of a cigarette, the very air itself caught fire.
