The Working Man Poem by Brett Roberts

Perfection is for dreamers, trying to obtain the impossible.
Check back to reality, where the working man gets screwed.
The rich & spoiled children of the world bring it crashing down.
No ambition for the poor, just the bottle and boozes.

Translated into a mathematical equation, there is no balance.
Nothing to be won, no glory. Just another day of work.
Working hard to support all the pretty girls.
Patiently waiting to take you for half your worth.

Day dreaming is for the pathetic souls, with no where to go.
Snap back to reality, where the working man gets screwed.
The drug dealing boys & the skanky girls. Bring it crashing down
There is no winning nor glory in this world of sin.

Trying to identify the good, the bad. There is no balance.
Good deeds are extinct, sins out way all the good.
So pick up your hammer & work away all these thoughts.
A metaphorical hammer, smashing all your dreams to the ground.

Promises are for manipulating lairs, trying to get what they want.
Bounce back to reality. Where the working man gets screwed.
The leaders & CEO's, burn the decent loyal people.
No remorse for the worker, its all about the almighty dollar.

Group together and kill everyone that has ever stole from you
There is no excuse to steal from the poor, the filthy poor.
Fortunes would not be realized without the working man.
Give that punch, never back down. And say Vie Le working man.!