At sixteen I had dreams of the big screen
That life would be pristine, writing for a living.
But that took attending school, and experience unending
So I took an unbending job without cheeriness at Denny’s.
Full of energy and appeal in this chapter of zeal
I released it with laughter freely in the hamster wheel.
It kept my pockets packed, saving for college with these ends
Studied hardy school days, and partied on the weekends.
On break time I’d take time to write stories for scripts I could make mine
Laced lines with witty quips, and shit without grace nor refined.
I viewed ranch dressing and chicken strips with indifference
And worked with diligence, as a means to a different end.

Junior in college now, and the white towel’s drawn
Aching to graduate, and at that date, throw the towel down
Quit this shit job with a blaze of glory, I could later make a story
Like Office Space, I’d rob and raid inventory,
Scream in a customer’s face with a trucker’s grace
“Get it yourself, I’m not your fucking slave!”
Then throw down my apron, kiss the hostess and exit the building
Just thinking about that day, made my school week fulfilling.

Senior suddenly, it’s somehow snuck up on me,
Drunk every night, tips have become ‘getting fucked up money’
But beneath that the teeth of a past were vice gripping in quick
Routine embedded thick, and no matter how I tried to slip from it
I woke up, no alarm, just another day, same time
Already I’ve become a slave to the grind
But I feared my time was flying, as I slide by
College almost over, next step is the 9-5
No more parties, it’s starting to hit me that I wasted my youth
My ‘fun days’ displaced, I’m dismayed at the truth
I’m an adult, or almost, and these night shifts too are soon gone
I’d have to wake up before noon before too long.
It scared me very badly, so I needed to drink even more
It evened the score I thought, as I slipped from my feet to the floor
I lost my confidence to doubt, crying ‘what’s life all about’
Grades slip, lost my relationship, and before long I drop out.

Days and years slide by in passivity, as youth has long slipped from me
The symphonies now sympathy, in a barstool I sip a drink
I’d become too quickly fifty, still a waiter, still waiting
For that opportunity to come right up, and take me.
I haven’t written in years, and hide within my fears
That I once awoke screaming from, pouring with tears
A career server, trapped on the hamster wheel, but I’m past just that
Could say I’m a slave to the grind, but that’s not accurate
I’m more a hostage to the grind of the wheel, as I ran too fast
And now the momentum’s trapped me, and I can’t get off it
My fear of being trapped in a cage, has closed the door, and locked it.