When the workload gets to be too much.

End-of-year working person's blues.

there must be another way / instead of struggling on like this

I gotta earn my bread by the sweat of my brow / But I don’t want to wait till 65—I want to live my life now.

another hour of this shice / of picking nits and moving mice / of getting pissed and yelling “christ!” / another day creeps by

And when the sun goes down and nothing feels right / Put on your sunglasses and slip into the night

Metadiscourse is useless, but that’s all that’s left / Once the muse has flown and left me bereft.

And how come it’s been taking me so long to do this / What’s been keeping me from being this way / It’s been taking me so long to understand

Just another day, how many ways to sing / Just another day, about the same old tired thing.

The same old diners, the same old bars / Still trying to make a living driving cars / Can't even think of reaching for the stars

I don't want to spend my life slinging hash / Or cleaning up after gourmet snob trash / Sure it's a decent buck / And an honest job ...

Too much work, I’m up to my eyeballs / Too much dirt, in over my head.