If muscles and joints could cry
They’ll wail in voices high
They’ll scream without retreat
For the mean migraine they hate.
If tissues and veins could talk
They’ll speak up clumsy words
They’ll lose their very thoughts
To spill out all their but’s.
This is what the people are
Stressed, depressed, oft abused
This is what their days behold
But who has guts to sit around
And just play and wait for cash?