ballade of the tired commuter

at some stage in our travels we come to the place
where in our journeying we change our train
for quite another where the term rat race
becomes in our eyes nothing more than the plain
statement of a kind of incandescent pain
that defines the normal human situation
still we're dry and warm and not out in the rain
and five points will be our next station

our tired beings move through time and space
each day the dragon of hard work is slain
we're in the hunt though victims of the chase
a dense dark fog seems to enfold each brain
from all this suffering not one can abstain
the whole thing marks a working life's duration
the truth of this each of us will maintain
and five points will be our next station

nothing it seems will from each mind erase
the memory nor end the bitter reign
of that which keeps our hearts from true solace
and treats each moment with a high disdain
we've got to work not one of us could refrain
from carrying out this quotidian operation
we're constantly engaged in this campaign
and five points will be our next station

prince we can't continue in this vein
when calm and serenity seem the abberation
life should be more than sweat and strain
and five points will be our next station