Basing My Operations

All vex get out of here and rise with me, good luck!
These shores have not been sunkissed
By the soles of children’s feet, you have nothing to fear,
Comrade, bleed out into these streets and puddle in gutters,
Simply fall and let me do the work in lapping,
I will even supply the polish you need for your sparkle.

You know my status, ever unchanging,
The metronome constant for others to set their pace by.
In my unemployed bed I carry around a tradition
That needs to be shaky and then left shattered,
No one here will pour forth for me and remix my days,
So let’s brush this life aside, my sibling by luck.

To hell with the lotteries, go kick them in the ass
And run to save me from this precarious Sunday swamp,
Go ahead and saddle me down to a liking,
As long as it means I get to escort out to a direction.
Be my spirit guide, the intervention of an invisible hand,
If you need to be my cargo, fine, let’s go.