I am not a workaholic, you are, I just pay

A cart horse

I really am not

yet I work

even when its hot

pulling fat arses like you

up hills

which I just shouldn’t do

and what do you give me

each day

not even a small bag of hay

the traffic is smelly and I

can’t cope with it really and why

I don’t like them getting too near

their exhausts really make me feel queer

Sometimes I can hardly believe

the weight you want me to achieve

and the speed that you want me to go

I feel put upon now as you know

It would just be better to die

for clearly I’m unloved, and I

hate to be unloved and told

to work till I drop and be sold

off to the knackers yard me

I come from a  good pedigree

but I’m treated like dirt

and it really does hurt

when nobody notices me

so tonight I feel sad and forlorn

I wish I had never been born

I just want to lay down and die

knowing nobody near me will cry

nobody cares about me

nobody shares what I see

nobody loves me for me

and all I want now is to be free