The Gold Mill

The Gold Mill

You work
for a
buck

In the
mill of
fire

Melting the
golden metal

Blood &
sweat drippin
out

Into the
mud on
the floor

Tellin your
story

You go
back to
your cave

Eat a
few slices
of bread

And sleep
on the
floor

A New
day arises

With the
sun blisterin

Into your
face

You back
to the
grind

Life passes
by the
hour

And ends
in the
toil of
time

Caution: This might be all theory