Survivor

I guess because I really know.
I won't name names because I'm cynical.
Taking what I say and using it against me.

I was tested with no reward.
How did I qualify for this?

I have to take a job nobody wants.
I'm a survivor.
I have to take pay for less than I'm worth.
I'm a winner.
I guess I won't be on the book tour this year.

I'm not afraid of responsibility.
But the idle mind without challenge becomes irresponsible.

They put a price on my head.
That's why I'm not found today.
But we hand picked impoverished outlaws weren't taught how to act.

As the numbers grow, and the economic gap widens, I'll continue to pose as someone beneath himself.

Tell it to the judge.

Go, tell it on the mountain.
Over the hills and far away.

Tell it to the jobless, single mother of three.
Tell it to that abled-bodied refugee.
Then, tell it to me.

The scars of America that nobody wants to see.

This welfare mother looks forward to another lonely winter watching her favorite television shows. Don't miss this exciting episode.
She'll be put through hoops by a camp counselor you won't see.

But I guess we're all proud in this same big boat.
Then, why are so many bodies cast afloat?

Cast away to find our own island to outwit, outlast, and outplay.

But don't confuse the ghetto jungle with Gilligan's Island.
There are trees standing all around.
Nobody sees; nobody hears the sound.

They reshape and glorify our problems. Then, they dramatize and package them. Following the cool, simple wind of the day.
Start it up; put it into motion.
Then, you ask me for a solution?

Well, how much is it worth to you?

Can a corporation pay off, after they have anted up such a insurmountable debt?
Can a person?


I applied for the job of being a survivor.
I was told, 'Your profile doesn't fit the profile.'

They deny, turn away, then exploit hard working people. Then, they give us shame.

They dressed up some tourists and gave them fifteen weeks of fame.
If the roles were switched, would you do it again?

I guess the Dream Factory keeps churning out those reality-based shows.
I'm sure glad they know what they are talking about.
They might not have been qualified, but they are attractive.

I survived this game, but got a bad back along with a bad name.
When I got back to my corner, there was no producer, no camera.
No one talked to me, and I didn't get paid.

I would like to parlay this sorrow and pity into a competitive career.
So I can coordinate my efforts in a survival for all.



At the end of the day, the players get to go home to their celebration.
I get one more day of preoccupation within my urban obstacle course, with no direction.
I guess I brought it upon myself.
So I have to solve it myself.

This they tell me.
As they packed up again for their controlled island climate.
A vacation of activities, fun, and profit.
For all to see.
Now, how will they get out of this one?
I guess they brought it upon themselves.

We can live with surviving in each world.
But I know better.
So, where do I fit in?
To these evenings activities.

The program producer put his hand on my shoulder.
"It's like this kid. The people want simplicity, entertainment, and real drama. You're too wordy, you ask too many questions, and you're too cerebral. Don't over analyze everything! Just go with it, man!" With that, he boarded his private chopper. His model girlfriend at his side, her head resting on his lap. As he waved, the shine of his Rolex reflected towards me.
They were gone.
But not forgotten.

For now, that is.



Have no time? Got no money?
Tired of being passed over for that promotion you're entitled to?
Tired of living in houses that all look the same?
Those powers that be are smarter than I thought.

So, I cleaned up, played the game, followed the rules, and even conformed my character.
I got a pat on the head, some smiling faces, and some worthless chatter.
But no admittance into that exclusive, private clique.

Were they lucky? Was I lazy?
They would cry like a baby if they were in my shoes.
I would carelessly throw away my fortunes.
I would blame them for my blues.

Are we comfortable with our roles, when we look to the other side?
Are we patient with the economics of chance?

Yes, we all came so far.
Some flew.
Some were pushed.
And some crawled, reminded of every inch.


I hold my head up, for I'm not afraid of your wealth.
I'm not ashamed of success.
I'm not ashamed of myself.



Go ahead, vote me off.
Go ahead, write me off.



Who is the survivor now?