Indigo

I might as well be dead,
I’m certainly not living.

This time clock life,
I barely see the sun,
Ow, the night is cold,
Looking at faces I’ve grown to know,
Fragile and old, they move so slow.

No, I don’t want to be them,
It’s so indecent, this indecent hour.

The people-pleaser,
Living an old poor rundown life.

I heard this woman sing about her king,
He is Vice President of nothing, 

Gladly, she shares her fairytale,
This is such a weird flex.

She crawls around in the middle of the night,
Going to work for the man, 
She provides a second income.

Who’s still impressed by titles?
The CFO’s wife probably works at Hooters!
These types of men don’t care about their wives,
Not all men want to provide.

What king lets his queen exchange her energy for money,

I would be singing a different tune,
I would be so embarrassed that I married him.

Who are these women with these rings?
Why are they working? Why are they here!
Do they lack creativity?
Do they not have hobbies?
Queens with idle time build empires.

Most men can’t afford to have a wife,
They are married to women who have compromised,
The audacity of these men to complain about anything!

She agreed to be a poor man’s wife,
She agreed to labor and her half to provide,
Not all men have the means to provide.