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Antiwork

A drunk poem

How should the worst of us live, that is I question I want to understand. The one who can’t speak the language, has strange skin and is from different lands. The one with the weak back, slow mind and unskilled hands The one who’s too young or old or has too many plans I imagine the very worst one with nothing to do. No food, no shelter or police protection too The worst of us would take the worst day from you We must hear the cry, shed a tear and care them soon The worst of us imagine them and feel their pain Take up the cause, feel their souls and speak their name If we don’t then watch out because we play their game And if we don’t quickly bitch to the rich, we’ll soon get the same.


How should the worst of us live, that is I question I want to understand.

The one who can’t speak the language, has strange skin and is from different lands.

The one with the weak back, slow mind and unskilled hands

The one who’s too young or old or has too many plans

I imagine the very worst one with nothing to do.

No food, no shelter or police protection too

The worst of us would take the worst day from you

We must hear the cry, shed a tear and care them soon

The worst of us imagine them and feel their pain

Take up the cause, feel their souls and speak their name

If we don’t then watch out because we play their game

And if we don’t quickly bitch to the rich, we’ll soon get the same.

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