Poetry

Somewhere
by Earl Bergland, 1971

When I soon die, will it be
Something else but work for me?
O'Lord O'Lord will it be?

Don't want to work anymore
'Cause I am melting inside
Working for money is kinda sad.
Working for nothing is just plain bad.

My life as a candle burning,
A burning candle without flame
Being melted by sweat all the same.

Been working working wiping the sweat away
Tomorrow is always just another working day.

I'm melting a little inside.
There's just a little less of me.
Working, working wondering why,
Is this the path on which way to die?

If I could work for pleasure,
If I could work that way,
I'd sculpture a mountain.
Do it just for play.

Been working for nothing
Its misery to know.
Working for nothing
Life loses its glow.

Log sitting looking at my grave
A working life don't seem to be
A hell of lot to stop and see.
Working for money isn't much.
Working for nothing, man needs a crutch.

When I soon die will it be,
Something else but work for me?
O'Lord O'Lord will it be?



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