Tis So Slow

The feed us lies almost every day
of all shapes, forms, and ways.
We sit and stare,
blankly there,
at what they are trying to say.
Theres the bell! Out today.
Dancing all weekend,
Like there will be no end.
Babysitting youngens
till all have made amens.
Back to Hell on Mondays,
cursed day! Don't go Sunday.

Feeding us lies all day
is for now how I stay.
No where to run nor to go.
Damn that clock, tis so slow.