“I might think in pounds and pennies…”


If one move is arbitrary as another
And one may be an enemy or brother
Of any given company
Or enterprise one finds
For just the flick of a coin
Then why am I not free
To act as I may please
But instead feel trapped
Inexorably attacked
By overbearing possibilities
None of which appeal
Would it not be better to cheat
Or steal
Rather than lie and lie again
To that inner voice inside
That has consistently denied
The use of anything

Perhaps it makes me odd
To be so ill at ease
With the multitude of fees
That one must pay to live
But still I think it rather strange
To be living in an age
Of so many varied choices
None of which I want to make
If only I were wiser
Or maybe something of a miser
I might think in pounds and pennies
And thereby come to some decree
But while desire still evades
And emptiness pervades
I must carry forth the burden
Of this lifeless liberty

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