Ends of sun, bending low
As above, so below
Your path is illuminated
“yes, sir; right away, sir”
You say with a benevolent slur
And move closer to a vow of silence
You have no voice
You have no choice
They call you Jack or Page
Working for the minimum wage
Harden your heart, aim to please
Memories are enemies
Bobby’s come back as an angel
Though I can’t fail, I don’t get smug
Lest I become placid or drugged
And wind up promoted
I have no voice
I have no choice
They call me Cass or Knave
Working for the minimum wage