"That's life in the big city,"
My grandmother always said.
I never knew what it meant,
Until I learned.
It starts slowly enough,
With a late dinner,
Or turning in early.
Then your job keeps you busy.
Your boss keeps you busy.
You but barely blink your eye
and you can't even remember
The last time you weren't too tired,
and just like that,
Your passion, your pride, your pastime
Has become a cold pantomime,
Slightly more important than your hair,
Slightly less than your taste in pornography,
and you've become the man you thought you hated.
That's life in the big city.
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