The Evolution of a Slyman

Fuck The Machine (an old poem)

“Fuck the Machine”

No matter how hard
I’ve tried
I’m still trapped inside
My 9 to 5
I’m staying alive
But it’s quite a stride
Still I sell my pride
And hope I thrive
By pleasing the mind
Of a superior kind
A man with a wallet fuller than mine
All through this time
I repeat in my mind
One day I’ll rise
One day I’ll shine
I wish I was strong
Like a Rock –n- Roll song
And made a dong
Like a big brass gong
Or take away your breath
Like a 4 foot bong
But those days are gone

I want to stand up and scream
Something obscene
Muck up what’s said to be clean
Hold up my finger and say:
“Fuck The Machine!”
Take what’s left of my being
And follow my dreams

You think you control
My mind and soul
Get it through your thick skull
There was nothing sold
No favors are owed
Won’t do what I’m told
I’ve been driving this road
Since before the stars were old

-T.C. Downey 1999

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