white flag

I'm starting to hate working
Maybe that's a bit harsh, but I do harbor a dislike of work
Is it fair for me to desire walking away?
It seems like my prayers for a day gig are being unanswered
- maybe God wants me to stick with the night shift, I'm not too sure -
Or perhaps this is punishment for some other sin, I reckon.
Six and a half years of the graveyard shift have really aged me.
Gone are those innocent, limber days as a gym rat
Exchanged for illuminated darkness, thirteen monitors, and four security cameras hovering above me.
Since the last time many of you saw me, I've gained nearly a hundred pounds, gray hair, and aching bones.
Yet all most people remember is an introverted genius.
Almost nothing surprises me anymore though you'd go in shock if I toss two fingers sideways out the car and never come back
Wouldn't ya?
Wouldn't ya?
Wouldn't ya?

Wanna know something funny?
I have an epic professional wardrobe in spite of my broke college kid appearance: shirts, ties, suits, blazers,  wing tips, etc. and I sport Fila sneakers and a schlubby graphic tee promoting 23 flavors.
It's like playing dress up, only in reverse.
As a child, I'd find a jacket and tie rarely a toolbox and jeans.
Yet I tarry one with the other.
My toolbox is the one I occasionally use on my car -
Quite the dependable machine,  I daresay. Arizona jeans are my Dockers, Fubu basketball shoes suffice as Stacy Adams.
I've never been power-hungry,  and until a few years ago remarkably content.
Now my priorities have changed but people think I have not.
I have a wife to provide for and 1200 square feet to maintain,  ya know.
Aside from the house, I'm debt-free for the first time since 1998
I feel good but I'm missing something.
Like Duncan Sheik, I'm barely breathing...

As I think it over, I wonder have I been waving the proverbial white flag too long.
Consider: I graduated the spring after 9/11, lost my only real job ten years ago, and drink like a fish.
No wonder why I've perfected the disappearing act.
Unrealized potential, shelved in the annals of history
Questions of shoulda, woulda, coulda don't matter now.
If only...