Enough
(c) 2004 Brian Madison

Harley Swagger paces in the board room
A paradox of drive and self-control
So unbalanced, bellicose, an expert
At intimidation techniques, stands above his so-called peers

Arrogant, denies his contradictions
Open-loop, don't know where he'll go next
Craftily he ropes them preaching win-win
As he grinds them into dust, he smiles and asks them for their trust

Cultivating his inhuman nature
Even works his short attention span
He can't help it he just can't restrain his
Cut-throat ways; when he smells blood he has to move in for the kill

Programmed like a pigeon poking buttons
Reflexive like a salivating dog
Twitching like a coked-up rat sees everything
And nothing all at once, addicted to a pointless game

He's master of most everything he touches
He's in control, he never has to bluff
He's got mouse-men scrambling before him
And he'll never find that lever called "enough"

Saturday he's in his corner office
Not noticing the sunny day outside
He gives his heart his soul his life his mind and
All his time and everything else comes in second-place

Sunday sailing, entertaining clients
Yachtman's squint, an anchor on a hat
Blitzed by sunlight suddenly and he sees
A deformed identity that he won't recognize as him

Talks about survival of the fittest
Seems to him that love is optional
Trophy third wife, trophy life, the kids an
Inconvenience but he'll make it up to them when Christmas comes

Daughter's in some kind of risky business
Doesn't talk to Harley any more
What's it this time, son is back in jail and
Once again he's posting bail, but it's the least that he could do

The captain with his hand upon the tiller
Charting his own course across the rough
Small sacrifices made along the journey
Won't ever touch that lever called "enough"

Wears exhaustion as a badge of honor
Eats his takeout Chinese in the dark
Sits there watching Friends on television
All alone he sips his Chivas, smiles, and thinks he's in the zone

Consumed by his conspicuous consumption
A coniseur, has nothing but the best
His simple pleasures: whiskey, wine, cigars, and
Cars define him; these are all the finest things in life

Late at night when everyone is sleeping
The naked mirror's cold reality
So far from poverty it doesn't matter
Still there's this mad drive to lift himself above some mean

What if one day his world split wide open
And he found there was nothing there inside
Would he even really care or would he
Just declare his unexamined life worth living after all

He's got an airtight alibi for his life
He's never had to deal with all his stuff
He's got more than he had ever dreamed of
But he never found a lever called "enough"

Then one day while shouting in the board room
A strange sensation tingles in his arm
And at that moment does he wish that he had
Spent more time at work he falls and dies; the business carries on

Were any heartfelt words said then about him?
And did anybody shed a tear?
And did he ever know just what it means to
Gain the world and lose your soul; he paid the price for how he lived

Can't help but feel in some strange way we owe you
So focused on the what, forgot the why
A transformation so complete I'm sure your
Widow will be happy; she'll move on much faster than you know

Do you recall so long ago in childhood
The day that you resolved to show them all
Living well's the best revenge but now you're
Dead and they'd forgotten you, such a long long time ago

Living well's the best revenge but now you're
Dead and they'd forgotten you, such a long long time ago


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