A job is just a job is just a job,
the world is just like a county-style festival,
lights and colors and sweet melodies to get you in the door
change your valuables for tickets,
and it’s all fine and flowers, yep,
for a while
until you get to the corn maze and
work yourself all astray, but,
hell, you can fool yourself into thinking
there’s nothing wrong with getting lost in a corn maze
from time to time,
that is,
until you find a nice dead-end path
with rotten stalks for walls and the rain beating you up,
and that’s just where you decide to stay, hell,
maybe they’ll send someone to find you eventually,
nobody’s ever coming to find you, naw,
and you either find yourself out or get buried there.

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