Give me the weight; my back is strong.
I've done time in the traces, it's where I belong.
There is solace in knowing just what I am -
a workhorse plodding slow.
and plodding home.
Look at my hands to see my true face.
They work wonders without waste.
This may not be the story I intended to write,
but this is the language of my life.
So what's one more brand new year unfolding -
I've got the same sweat on my brow.
I've bargained my penance and starved for forgiveness;
I'm fat with forgetting now.
A workhorse at the plow.
Fat with forgetting now.
For Get Listed at Real Toads