When you live in a world with such few limitations,
Hearing any excuse is a waste of your patience,
It leads you to wonder how much time that they've wasted,
Looking for some common ground to feel their deeds reciprocated,
But I've never found trouble with any endeavor,
My friendship never turned fickle for inclement weather,
Through perilous journeys I've always commuted,
For business or pleasure- neither duty refuted,
That small car has made it on journeys over an hour,
I guess a sense of work ethic equates to some hidden power
Perhaps that difference is why I get paid in six numbers,
In the time that excuses leaves them aging in slumbers