#9 Rig Gig

The gig to the rig,
I was waiting up for you,
4 in the morning, 4 for the
Mourning, he faded away
And the snow caved us in,
You never saw that body,
You never buried that hatchet,
Left us crying, left us dying,
Left us forsaken,
Your gig kept you dead,
Your 9 to 5 that never did
Seem to end,
Home life was a home
Knife, always a ripped life
We did live, ripped couches,
Plenty of late night talks,
Her family waited not so
Carelessly, but we never did
The same, maybe that’s why
There’s still pain,
Just want the please for
The pleasure, just still not
Sure what is will cost,
Just know all the things I
Have lost,
So we still slip again off the gig,
And into the rig
Into the place where you live,
Maybe our future won’t be
So dreary,
Maybe it will outlast the
Time it will take to dig again

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