Work, Work, work, work, work, work

William Klein Candy Store, New York, 1955

His jeans were ripped,

Yet not in style.

His shoes looked as if they had run a mile.

His shirt was tight,

Yet loose at the same time.

It looked as if they had not been washed

In quite a while.

His clothes were filled with dirt,

Yet they perspired an aroma of work.

Work, work, work, work, work,work.

Or so Rihanna says.

The rhythm keeps you humming.

Yet you cannot connect.

People out there are lifting wood,

People out there are filling wounds.

These are the people that keep us alive.

We keep on moving,

And never ask why.

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