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