I'm prime-beef labor, but what pie-slice is that?
5 per of new jobs, not exactly the fat.
Half of new jobs go to chief-cook-and-bottle,
Folks with two kids honing pensions and wattle.
For a guy like me with a big future at play,
What a shame it'd be to kiss all that away!
Kiss it away in flipping burgers at Joe's,
In taming mad clients or painting chicks' toes.
Some day soon, Dad, I'll get the great call:
"Come save our company and we'll pay you all!"
Till then I remain like 94 million,
Awaiting my chance, becalmed and reptilian.