Labor for Sale

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Walking on a highway,
Labor for sale.
A pack on his back,
No ties to the world.
He feels so alone,
Yet there are many like him.
Struggling to survive in a ruined economy.

Walking on a highway,
Labor for sale.
Will some one give him work
So that he may have some sort of meal?
Walking for days-on-end
He has noone to talk to
His shadow is his only friend

Walking on a highway,
Labor for sale
He lays down his pack,
And closes his eyes.
He dreams of a place
Without depression or lies.





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