Staring at a screen is not living the dream.

Working jobs to pay my bills,

Will not, this heart, fill.

I long for the day when I can punch out, one last time.

Oh what a sweet victory day it will be,

The day I’m done working the line.

I’ll walk outside into the sun,

And, throw my hands up to the Son.

I’ll shout and sing,

And remember this day, and all the rest,

When I didn’t think I could make it by being my best.

Until that day comes, I don’t mind the grind.

My eyes are forward,

To that last day,

When I punch out, one last time.