Thursday, March 6, 2008


One picture drawn on a napkin
One snapshot to shove in a frame
One poem to say you've done it
But where is the work you gave?

Where is the sweat and toil?
Where is the dirt on your hands?
Which night did you spend sleepless
laying in a dark room?

So how can you say you deserve it,
When you have nothing you've proved.

You're just another one of them,
with nothing but pride to lose.

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