Working

Always working a shift

Even when I'm about to drift

For sleep calls to me

Like a flower to a bumblebee

Always working late

Even when things aren't great

Because I need the cash

Like a runner needs to win the hundred meter dash

Every day at work

I feel like going berserk

It feels like I'm under a spell

From the broiling depths of Hell

Will these feelings ever pass

Is a question that runs through my cerebral mass