It Seems We All Have Problems

It seems we all have problems,
You and me, and he and she.
We sell our soul daily for pennies.

Slaves at our labour,
Cowards of our pasts,
Scared, beaten down, and lost.

We search for the meaning
of why we exist.
We ask questions with answers
we'll never find.

You've lost a loved one,
I've lost my job,
He can't find love,
and she can't forget.

There's no end to the passing
Each day to the next.
Onward it goes, tick by tick.

Closer it comes,
is it death or success?
It is for one and not for another.

Closer it comes,
will I live 'till tomorrow?
Or is tomorrow just another passing day?

It seems we all have problems,
You and me, and he and she.
We sell our soul daily for pennies...

--Marie Tai