To work from holy Dawn to sacred Sunset,
To accumulate wealth like fish in a net.
Who masters the daily chore is slave to it,
The strength of the workhorse is held by the bit.
Who gains, my friend, who among us benefits?
Some see freedom as a reward, others never know peace,
Shackled to a runaway chariot that will not cease,
The passionate young would fly high if they had golden wings,
But are forced to settle down to nest when the death crow sings.
Who gains, my friend, who among us benefits?
Take some one’s life and see who visits the grave,
None can ready their eternal soul to save.
The life of a good man is a comedy,
And therein lies the eternal tragedy.
No one gains, my friend, none among us benefits?
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