The Ballad of the Hopeless Jobseeker

The covers move, the thing awakes, to greet the morn anew.
(This is of course a misnomer - its really half past two),
The coffee fresh, the shower warm, and things are looking bright;
And then the sudden thought appears, they're switching off the lights.
So with a dark and dismal heart the seeker turns again,
To steal the paper from the dog and somehow find a pen.
3 hours and eighteen circles gone, she finally finds the urge,
To face her boring email box; set all rejects to purge.
At half past five the phone does ring, such a precious sound,
and while hope lives, her heart does leap, then crashes to the ground,


An hour goes by, she's through the box, its time to check the web,
The oft read lines of seek.com,
she'll see them when she's dead.
Line by line of little ads, and she is fit for none.
Oh God, my God, shes prays, may this cursed task be done,
There must be one for me out there, somewhere in the blue,
I'm sick of people asking me what is it I do.
A thousand jobs, a million posts, all empty like the wind,
But I'm too smart, too fat, too dumb, a million other things.
I know, I know, alright, I know, its foolish to despair,
But if this goes on for one more week, I'm pulling out my hair.