Making My Way
Warehouse work can be mindless,
And the laborers come and they go.
The bosses aren’t known for kindness.
Work is hard and the wages low,
But the bosses seem to like me here
Because I earn each dime I make.
They can always be sure my face will appear,
Even if I’m sometimes late.
It may not be much, but at least it’s a start
Until I find myself something better, . . .
At the interview, you can bet I’ll look sharp.
I hope they’re impressed by my letter,
Since I haven’t got much for a resume.
I hate those damned applications.
I never know the right words to say for
“Excuse my cut short education.”
But I know I possess great intelligence,
And I’m keen for a chance to learn.
I know how to be a gentleman.
I just hope for a fair return,
As I struggle each day to better myself,
And as I pray for my sisters and brothers
That they’ll help support Mom, who is not in good health,
But I don’t mind my bread without butter!
It’s just that sometimes, I feel so low
Then I step out into the neighborhood
Where there are so many people with nowhere to go
Who are jealous of anyone’s good.
How do you get to peace of mind
When everyone’s into your business?
Yet where people look on when they see a crime,
‘Cause they’re afraid to admit they’re a witness?
The dealers and the gamblers party all night long,
And talk in the hallways is crude,
But when you live in the ghetto, you’ve got to be strong.
I know it’s a matter of attitude.
I’ve learned how to hustle, and to follow my hunches,
Because nothing is sure when you’re out on the street.
I’ve learned to scuffle and to roll with the punches
As I strive to be clear and to stand on my feet.
Success will be on by that last extra mile,
And I’m hip to action that’s all across town!
Life is good, and I choose to smile:
Nothing of this world’s gonna get me down!
Decent!
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