Working Man

Scoop out portions of my stomach

My head melts into poisonous rains,

Throwing my hands in the dark

to catch the last bit of my remains.

In the run, out in the wild

its a new and happy forgetfulness.

This is the moment, this is your chance

shout, cry, sing and dance.

A picture, smell or a song will ignite

lost days of youthful fright

Count, list, work and smile

for life will start again and will last a while