I do what I want

Clad in branded plain black suits,

stamping clean and shiny new boots,

iPhone shining past their coat, 

into closed chambers some do float, 

paying in cheques they hate to count, 

piling pennies in their account, 

are these countless gentlemen, 

their dreams limited to the pen.

Some work in cool airs nine to five, 

for prestige and fame they do thrive, 

all they know is their own high, 

how happy are they, they do lie, 

they do things they never knew, 

and do nothing that is new, 

scientists they are, O hypocrisy, 

literate they are, such illiteracy.

There is a writer I see earning tons,

but his typewriter never runs, 

there is an engineer I heartily adore, 

he just works like a swinging door, 

there's a violinist I always love, 

she just plays on the top of a stove, 

all these people lost their dream, 

in the ill waters of money fame stream.

I serve those feeble gentlemen, 

by hatching their eggs into a lovely hen, 

I teach the fruits of masters of science,

because they gave it up in their whines,

I see my dreams not when I sleep, 

I know I don't make a cognizant heap, 

I too don't idle on a daily beat, 

I seek the delicacies of a cognitive treat.

I do teach, it's not any fault, 

I don't preach, my life isn't at a halt.

I am the one who knows I enjoy, for I am deaf to your taunt, 

I am the dream I saw as a boy, for I do what I want.