Lyric

Boss tags “urgent” at dawn—sorry, tide’s clocked in

My résumé’s a sandcastle: fragile, yet it wins

Banks count coins; I count waves—ROI in spray;

Clock-out o’clock all day, salty sun-ray pay

Let the spreadsheets sweat in fluorescent glare;

I’m surfing margins they can’t declare

Overdosed on vitamin sea-cret

Profits grow where sunscreen leaked

Their hustle clocks rust in a parking jam;

I ride foam-lined graphs they can’t exam

Email alarms ring—seagulls drown them out;

Quarterly crusades fade in coconut shouts

Deadline mirages melt on the boardwalk sand;

I high-five a pelican, sign off “Catch me if you can.”

If success is a marathon, I’ll jog in flip-flops—

Finish line drifts closer every time the tide drops

Vitamin sea-cret, overdose again;

Margin in the moon-glow, payout in the wind

They sprint for gold while the coastline grins—

Chill-tide economy always wins