We are common
more than we think
and so unique
to whoever’s behind the eyes
We’re the zeros
behind the billions
assigned numbers
so specific

Wake up before the sun
leave your hour
to the highway
and your day to
line the pockets
of some man with
the softest hands

Sometimes I think
that it’s all a
sick joke on the
middle class

Keep on pushing
Keep your head down
and your numbers up
I swear on my checkbook you’ll be up here soon
We’re all counting on you

Put your time in
and time again
Spend your weekends
finishing dead ends
Years go by
xeroxed days of
exchanging your life
for a paycheck