Conflicting Schedules

poor me working i don't need your fucking pity it's your day off your life is so much better than mine you are lucky poor me crying i don't need your fucking pity it's our battle your skin is so much thicker than mine you are lucky legs are locked arms are crossed let them walk over me eyes are closed tied in knots sucking sap from the tree those who hold those who stare have their schedules such a poor sight to see he who suffers poor me working i dont' need your fucking pity it's your day off your life is so much better than mine
I think that I am dead - who will advance when i am dead? and this is war... no how will you prove that i am dead? is this a joke... no and you don't think that i belong? if this is war... stop under the ground into the crowd he's gone smiling at the stars he's no longer one of ours i really think that i am dead so this is life... stop under the groudn into the crowd he's gone smiling at the stars he's no longer one of ours when you're smiling things move fast some day soon he shall be passed