Nothingnew Pink Slip
man sits alone at his desk in a dusty gray room,
his shelves are a mess, hourglass sin white sand
no longer a man, got a gun in the drawer
and a pink slip in his hand
a daydream of old days, he startles, he’s awake
a voice just outside the door
he sits back in his chair, holds his breath one more year
should he bleed for one month more?
runs his hand through silver hair, no respect after 20 long years
just one moment of peace for this old man to prepare
quiet rap on the door, his replacement chimes in, ‘are you still there?’
not for long… it’s his only conversation today so far
replacing an old part, remove an old man’s heart
i think it’s time that they should know
all about motivation, lifelong dedication
now his position’s sold
gentle beckon, ‘come on in,’ some relief in a simple grin
repercussions, his actions see none, a lonely sin
he’ll retire with all of his friends gone long before him, he’s the last
getting by because he’s living in the past
no one will notice he’s dead, with his pension run dry
his father had said, ‘you can try as you can, bleed red for the man,
but you’ll always end up with a pink slip in you hand.’
