"Will Work For Food"
It’s 8 o’clock and I’m delivering pizza
Car smells like stale anchovies
My destination is a place I’ve been before
They’re shitty tippers and their house is excessively large
Down the street there’s an old man walking
His belongings stuffed in a red sports bag
No destination, he’s just trying to pass the time
He’s got a sign that says Something about work for food
How did it come to this
Is there a better way
Is it survival of the fittest
Or disregard for humanity
On the curb we sat a while, talking
Shared our views on the state of the nation
His aspirations didn’t see him sitting here
We laughed and ate those bastards pizza
He told me stories of CIA conspiracies…