The Odds
The odds in this life
stacked so high against you
It’s enough to make anyone sick
Born in the wrong family
They’ll beat your body, your mind, or your soul
black and blue
over before it even started
But let’s say your family’s hunky-dory
With love flowing out of everybody’s ears
What then?
Well you could be well-loved
But if you’re not the brightest? Good luck.
In this age of digital hell,
Either you’ve got the brains to work the machines
Or the machines will work you
over before it even started
But let’s say you’ve got a good set of loving folks around you?
And you’ve got a sharp mind to boot?
What’s left wanting?
Nothing, what else could a person possibly need for a chance at success?
What else
What else
What else
Ah.
But what if you haven’t got the dollars in the bank?
Your family can love you all they can
You can be as bright as you like
But if you’re poor? Middle-class?
You’ll spend your whole life climbing a ladder
while others take the escalator
Pointing and laughing at you, designer shopping bags in tow
While your limbs shake from trying to pull yourself up out of hell
Over before it even started
The odds are so varied and yet so uniform in their condemnation
The average joe hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in the Sahara
Life really is shit
But you keep on living
What else is there to do.
Maybe you’ll beat the odds.
