my eyes adjust, and my throat is dry
both parched,
transitioning from Oases to reality, I awake to this desert
a home without happiness,
and a job thats out to kill,
yet I work at both
to be here, in this room I cough
I cough so that I may breathe
the trade is not fair
to go from shapeless water to cup full of sand
to be here, so far from my dreams
life goes round circle
I will dream again these happy thoughts
but until then I will drink this water
Oases make trade possible
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