By: Brent Taylor

He feels so ready

But his palms are so sweaty

Second guessing himself

He looks up on the shelf

He sees a picture of his wife holding his baby

I’ll see her again he thinks

I’ve been thinking of her lately

Thinking of the stuff I should have done

No wonder she said we’re done

I was an awful father

I’d come home and barely know my own daughter

She still loved me she said

But I know her love was fading

Fading like a sunset

He knows he doesn’t have much time

He has to win them back

He has to get this job

It was the only way

He has to build this family up from the ground

Get us out of this RV park

We should be able to sleep when it’s dark

Not have to sleep with one eye open

I’m sitting in the waiting room

His name gets called

It’s his time

He goes in and sells himself

“It’s over,” says the manager

“We don’t need you.”

He screams, “I’ll do anything!”

“No,” the manager says, “I already said it!”

“Please!” he pleads once more

“It’s for my family,

My wife and my daughter

This isn’t for me, it’s for them!”

The manager says, “Minimum wage from nine to five,

And that will be enough to get your life back together

And don’t ever wrong your wife or daughter again

Be thankful for what you’ve got and pray

Everyday and night tell them you love them

Pray that you’ll see the light one day.”