one man paid, another

worked for it.

a smile, a chat, a clap on the back,

when the tag carries a value

but what is it?

to some it is bread and butter,

others to buy a posh looking car,

then there are always the glittering vices!

but be careful here, says the wise man

who has seen it all: it is greedy, it is all consuming,

it is a one way street although it feels

like an amusement park at first.

the old chaps i know like to joke about

crossroads and what nots,

they’re always the exceptions, or the man really

was just like grandpa muttering as usual,

lost in days locked within a world already passed.

work is a vice, they used to poke and jibe with each other,

work till you die, like an ox tilling the ground.

sweet mother earth!

the poor ox is toiling while vain dogs walk in parks,

able to do as they please, with savory treats just

for being cute.

ah, it is all about demand and supply,

yeah, yeah – by now the chaps were all slightly drunk.

so what gives?

eh, what? mutters and grumbles came about

from red faced punks,

you know – are we the ox or the dog?

a callous laughter echoes in the tavern,

and already the vices are smelling opportunity.

they come in various forms,

often whispered like a soothing tonic,

this will make you well.

how sick can a person be?

but the nods were already doing their nodding,

nod, nod, nod

as vice poked and jibed with company,

such a merry go around: value gets spun around

in narratives while the ox finally caves.

the dog got the ox meat,

still wagging it’s tail.

some say value is in the eyes of the beholder,

others say the world has gone quite mad.

between these two interpretations,

a laughter echoed in the tavern, the vices had their slaughter.

more laughter, then more, hahah,

it was all quite funny if you think about it,

when price, value and work have long ridden

Santa Claus’s sleigh to merry merry land.

merry christmas to you too!

you see it don’t you?