THE BOX
Born into a box of poverty and seclusion
So used to their status, they bear no delusions
Life is but a waiting game, each day is just the same
They have grown up in a culture where work is a pain
Never missing prosperity, they never had a taste
Not an ounce of integrity, such a human waste
Waiting for a monthly stipend not trying to pretend
It is the legacy handed down to them
Born into a box, four sides, a bottom and top
Not really worrying about things they never got
Children in a welfare state, just living to get by
Just switching to a cheap pine box once they whither away and die
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