My Soul is at risk

Never in the need for a payroll. It’s tight like that. But while money is necessary it never drove me. To my detriment it seems. My soul is at risk because the devil he knows.

I’ll swallow your soul

Ole Scratch knows what I want as much as the Boss does. The boss says work, but that midnight rider, he says I can fast track those dreams of yours. You just need to choose which set of dreams, your champagne dreams or those wake-up screaming sort. Either way, he plans on arranging delivery.

That’s where my soul comes in. That’s where that risk is. I don’t like waking up in fits and sure don’t dig eating top ramen. But I’ll be fit to be tied to find myself with a wink of good times traded for an eternity of swamp butt and miseries only imagined.

But man, that freedom in this life, to say to the workaday life, no thanks, I won’t be needing you, that’s some kind of temptation. To go where I want, when I want, how I want, and with zero concern for cost. That’s tempting.

Living in a world free from alarm clocks and appointments and doing things that bore you, damnation, hard to pass on that. No more watching people grow fat on your labor bent back, no more rubbing tired eyes, watching the clock move, waiting on that five o’clock liberation.

Yeah, my soul is at risk. Isn’t yours? What’s that Old Bargainer dangling in front of you? Money? Power? Fame?

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