Two Jobs.

I catch the early morning train.
Once onboard i sniff a line of good cocaine.
It wakes up my oh so tired brain.
And makes me sort of madly sane.
I arrive at work and do my job.
The wages they pay me, me they legally rob.
But the poor wages keeps me just about fed and watered.
My clothes old and kind of tattered.
So on the side cocaine i sell.
Knowing one day i might end up in a jail cell.
The extra money helps my kids.
And from me the worst kind of poverty the extra money rids.
Don't sell much i don’t get greedy.
All i am is one of the unfortunate needy.
I finish my work and head back home.
Then to sell my goods later on the streets i roam.
Please don’t think bad of me.
In this unfair world sometimes good is hard to be.