There goes the seamstress,

planning out her day.

She really wants to be a farmer,

and swim in seas of hay.


There goes the phone man,

looking for his lines,

he’d rather be exploring

the meaning of our minds.


There goes the teacher,

on second gear at school.

She can’t overcome what others want,

and stalls going up the hill.


There goes the bank man,

thinking money and till

and like the ancient tax man,

blamed for a nation’s ill,


There go I,

joining all the rest,

knowing I have more to give,

that no-one knows my best.



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