09 Myself, I Work For Nothing


to the tune of My Brother Was a Poet by Roger Whitaker

 

Myself, I work for nothing

I just kind of spend my days

Hoping the Boss of this job

Will come by site today

I try keeping myself busy

Attending to what I do

I keep my eyes and ears open

Best to see Him seeing you

 

Myself, I work for nothing

And I even do get paid

And then I go and give it

To get stuff and work today

Some say I'm disconnected

From culture, wit and love

But I adore this life

And above all this I love

I try to care for others

The Boss may have sent them here

Besides when I'm agreeing

They're not confronting me

And if not the Boss that sent them

Could be the customer himself

Or even just some other

Considering work himself

I know that you cannot know

Much of anything

So I'll listen to what Boss wants

And if judgment comes I'll sing

Cause right or wrong don't matter

He can do anything

Cause how can another person

Of Him know everything

And if my shift is over

I rest and wait until

The Boss again comes looking

Another world for me to till

 

Comments