You'll see how I mean to rhyme it
if you push and probe
it's just a notion that's
been rattling 'round my frontal lobe
everyday I'm dodging
every dart you lob
Dear what the hell is
supposed to be my real job
why don't we all get born
with a golden ticket
an instruction manual
to lead us through this thicket
Oh I know about the book
but let me whisper in your ear
nobody can agree on it
down here it's just not clear
to put it cleanly down
I'm plain perplexed
I even dare to wonder
if the answer's to be found in text
and if your plan for me
insists I truly rise above the mob
I'm going to need a sign
that points to something more than just a job
what
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