About the Song

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

PRIMARY EMOTION

Frustration

ALSO FITS

Disappointment • Betrayal • Integrity • Personal Responsibility • Work Ethic • Trust • Resilience • Self-Respect

WHAT THIS SONG IS ABOUT

If you have ever been the one carrying somebody else’s weight, this song will probably feel familiar.

It belongs to the people who show up before sunrise because the job has to get done. The people who understand that being dependable matters just as much as being talented. The people who still believe a handshake, a promise, and a person’s word should mean something.

It also belongs to anyone who has spent years listening to excuses.

You know the kind.

They will be there tomorrow.

They are only five minutes away.

The truck broke down.

The alarm did not go off.

The phone died.

Something came up.

Once in a while, those things are true. Life happens to everyone. Good people have bad days. Vehicles break. Children get sick. Emergencies do not ask permission before arriving.

That is not who this song is about.

This song is not aimed at someone who made one mistake. It is not attacking someone who is learning, struggling, or honestly going through a difficult time. Every one of us has disappointed somebody. Every one of us has been late, forgotten something, or failed to come through the way we intended.

The difference is whether it happens once or becomes a way of life.

This song is about the person who makes promises without respecting the people who believe them.

The person who always has another story.

Another reason.

Another delay.

Another tomorrow.

After enough years, you stop hearing the excuse because you already know how the story ends.

The worker does not arrive.

The customer is left waiting.

The machine sits still.

The crew has to work harder.

Someone else carries the responsibility.

Then the same person comes back with another promise as though the last one never happened.

That is where the frustration in this song comes from.

At first glance, the title makes it sound like this is only about a useless worker. It is bigger than that.

It is about what happens when words lose their value.

A person can talk all day. They can tell you how talented they are, how much experience they have, how badly they need the work, and how everything will be different this time.

None of that matters if their actions never arrive.

I have spent most of my adult life in business. Construction, landscaping, trucking, heavy equipment, and everything connected to those industries have introduced me to many different kinds of people.

Some became people I trusted without hesitation.

Some became friends.

Some taught me how much a dependable worker is worth.

Others taught me exactly how expensive excuses can become.

One unreliable person can affect an entire day.

A machine can sit idle.

A deadline can move.

A customer can lose confidence.

A good worker can end up doing two jobs because somebody else decided not to do one.

Until you have been the person responsible for getting the work finished, you may not realize how quickly one broken promise can spread through an entire crew.

That is why this song is not really about lateness.

It is about respect.

It is about trust.

It is about whether your word carries any weight when somebody is depending on it.

I have met people who were still learning but became excellent workers because they listened, tried, and showed up.

I have also met people with tremendous ability who became useless because nobody knew whether they would be there.

Talent is valuable.

Reliability is priceless.

I would rather work beside someone who is slower but dependable than someone brilliant who disappears every time responsibility arrives.

The dependable person builds more than whatever happens to be on the job that day.

They build confidence.

They build trust.

They build a reputation.

That reputation often follows them into the next job before they ever arrive.

The same is true for the person who never comes through.

You do not have to advertise either one.

People do it for you.

The title, YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN, is supposed to be blunt.

This song does not politely ask the person to improve.

It comes from the moment after patience has already been used up.

It comes after the calls.

After the chances.

After the promises.

After hearing “five more minutes” so many times that the words mean nothing.

The anger is real, but underneath it is something heavier.

Exhaustion.

There comes a point when you are no longer angry because anger still requires hope that something might change.

Eventually you stop expecting anything.

You stop waiting.

You stop calling.

You move forward without them.

That is where this song ends up.

Not with forgiveness.

Not with revenge.

With the truth.

Some people make mistakes and learn from them.

Some people make excuses and live inside them.

THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG

This song was not written because of one bad employee.

It was not written because of one contractor, one customer, one friend, or one disappointing day.

It came from a lifetime of seeing the same behaviour wearing different faces.

I have heard all the promises.

I have heard the excuses.

I have heard the big talk before the job begins and the complete silence when it is time to stand behind it.

After enough years, you start recognizing the pattern before the person finishes speaking.

They tell you they are coming tomorrow.

Tomorrow arrives without them.

Then comes the explanation.

They are broke.

They have bills to pay.

They need the work.

They swear this time is different.

They promise they will be there the next morning.

Then the next morning arrives, and nothing changes.

Big talk.

Crooked walk.

That pattern is the backbone of this song.

What makes it frustrating is that many of these people are not incapable of working.

Some of them have ability.

Some of them know the job.

Some of them could become dependable if they decided their word mattered.

That is what makes the excuses harder to accept.

The problem is not always that they cannot do it.

The problem is that they will not stand behind what they say.

I have always respected effort.

Someone does not have to be perfect to earn my respect.

They do not have to be the fastest person on the crew.

They do not need to know everything on the first day.

They can ask questions.

They can make mistakes.

They can admit they need help.

What matters is that they are trying honestly.

The people who earned my respect over the years were not always the most talented.

They were the ones I could count on.

They picked up the phone.

They told the truth.

If something went wrong, they owned it.

They respected the fact that other people were depending on them.

That is all most employers really ask.

Then there were the others.

The ones who seemed to have an endless supply of reasons why nothing was ever their fault.

The road.

The weather.

The truck.

The alarm.

The family.

The phone.

The timing.

Bad luck.

Somehow, everything in the world was responsible except the person making the promise.

One excuse might be true.

Ten excuses start looking like a pattern.

Twenty excuses start looking like a lifestyle.

That is where compassion begins turning into frustration.

Not because you expect perfection.

Because you expect honesty.

There is a major difference between saying, “I made a mistake,” and inventing another story to escape responsibility.

“I made a mistake” can begin a change.

Another excuse usually begins another excuse.

This song was also shaped by the good workers I have known.

That matters to me.

It would be easy to make the whole song about the people who disappointed me, but those people are only half the story.

The other half belongs to the ones who showed up.

The people who worked in bad weather.

The people who stayed when a job took longer than expected.

The people who helped finish work somebody else abandoned.

The people who did not need to brag because everybody already knew what they were worth.

Those workers do not always receive enough recognition.

They are often the quiet ones.

They do not arrive with speeches.

They arrive ready to work.

They become the people everyone hopes will be on the crew because their presence makes the entire day better.

A dependable person can calm a job before anything even begins.

An unreliable person can create problems before they arrive, assuming they arrive at all.

That contrast stayed with me.

The song is angry toward the excuse-makers, but it also carries respect for the people who never needed excuses.

The title came from wanting something sharp, memorable, and almost ridiculous enough to make people laugh before they realized how serious the subject really is.

A chicken makes noise.

It runs around.

It creates confusion.

It disappears when it is time to stand up.

That image fit the person I was writing about.

All talk.

No commitment.

Always making noise.

Never carrying weight.

The song needed a chorus with no mercy because the subject had already received enough patience.

This was not the time for careful language.

It was the time to say exactly what years of frustration had earned.

WHY I WROTE THIS SONG

I wrote this song because I was tired of pretending all excuses deserve another chance.

Some do.

Some are real.

Some come from honest people having a difficult day.

But there are also people who use understanding as permission to keep disappointing everyone around them.

They know somebody else will cover for them.

They know the job will still get finished.

They know another worker will stay late.

They know the employer will make the uncomfortable phone call.

They know somebody else will carry what they dropped.

After a while, that stops being bad luck.

It becomes a choice.

I wanted to write the words many employers, workers, friends, and family members have probably wanted to say.

Do not tell me you are coming if you know you are not.

Do not ask me to trust you when you have already shown me that your promises mean nothing.

Do not make your responsibility somebody else’s punishment.

I also wrote it because I believe the dependable people deserve to be recognized.

There are workers who get up every morning, take care of their families, arrive when they say they will, and do their jobs without expecting applause.

They are the reason businesses survive.

They are the reason customers return.

They are the reason difficult projects get completed.

They are the people who hold everything together while somebody else is explaining why they could not make it.

I wanted the song to defend those people.

I wanted it to say that reliability still matters.

Your word still matters.

Showing up still matters.

It may not sound glamorous, but it tells people who you are.

I did not write this to teach anyone how to work.

I wrote it because I had lived through enough empty promises to know what they cost.

Sometimes frustration needs somewhere to go.

Mine went into this song.

WHY THIS MATTERS TO ME

This matters to me because I have spent decades depending on people and having people depend on me.

When you are responsible for a business, your word affects more than your own day.

Customers are waiting.

Workers are expecting direction.

Equipment has to be moved.

Schedules have to be met.

Bills have to be paid.

Families are depending on the work continuing.

One person failing to show up may sound like a small problem to the person staying home.

To everyone else, it can change the entire day.

That is why I take a person’s word seriously.

I do not expect anyone to control everything that happens in life.

Nobody can.

I expect them to be honest when something goes wrong.

Call me.

Tell me the truth.

Do not make me chase you.

Do not tell me you are five minutes away when you have not left the house.

Do not swear on names you do not respect.

Do not borrow trust from people and act surprised when there is none left.

I have made mistakes in my own life.

I have had things go wrong.

I have had plans change.

This is not me pretending I have always been perfect.

It is me saying that honesty still matters when perfection is impossible.

A truthful phone call can save respect.

A lie usually destroys more of it.

This subject matters because I admire people who can be counted on.

I respect the worker who may not be the fastest but never leaves everyone wondering.

I respect the person who admits they made a mistake.

I respect the one who arrives ready to learn.

I respect the person whose name makes others feel confident instead of nervous.

That kind of reputation takes years to build.

It can be damaged quickly.

I wanted this song to carry both sides of that truth.

The anger toward those who waste trust.

The respect for those who earn it.

WHY THIS SONG FITS MOITA

MOITA is built from real life.

Not every song comes from one specific event, but every song has a reason for existing.

This one comes from years of work, observation, frustration, and experience.

It comes from watching people reveal their character through ordinary decisions.

Do they show up?

Do they tell the truth?

Do they keep their word?

Do they take responsibility when something goes wrong?

Those questions may sound simple, but they can tell you almost everything you need to know about somebody.

That is why this song belongs inside MOITA.

It begins in the workplace, but it does not stay there.

The same behaviour appears in business, friendship, family, marriage, and every other place where one person depends on another.

One person breaks a promise.

Somebody else carries the result.

That is a human story.

MOITA does not only speak about beautiful moments.

It also speaks about frustration, betrayal, anger, exhaustion, and the point where patience runs out.

Life is not always polite.

Real conversations are not always clean.

Sometimes the most honest sentence is the one you have been holding back for years.

This song keeps that edge.

It does not soften the subject until it becomes harmless.

It also does not attack people simply for struggling.

The target is clear.

Not weakness.

Not inexperience.

Not hardship.

Dishonesty.

Excuses without responsibility.

Promises without action.

That distinction matters.

MOITA is about truth, and the truth here is simple.

A person’s word is only worth what their actions place behind it.

READ THIS FIRST

Before reading these lyrics, forget the title for a moment.

Do not picture only one worker.

Picture every person you ever trusted who slowly taught you that their words meant very little.

Maybe it was somebody you hired.

Maybe it was a business partner.

Maybe it was a friend.

Maybe it was someone in your family.

Every one of us has experienced the moment when we finally stop listening to what somebody says and start believing what they repeatedly do.

That realization rarely happens all at once.

It builds.

One missed day.

One broken promise.

One unanswered call.

One excuse.

One more tomorrow.

Eventually the words stop carrying weight because you have already heard them too many times.

This song is not laughing at people who genuinely struggle.

It is not judging anyone for one mistake.

Life can humble all of us.

Good workers have emergencies.

Honest people make mistakes.

Dependable people sometimes fall short.

The difference is what they do next.

Do they tell the truth?

Do they own it?

Do they respect the people who were depending on them?

Or do they reach for another excuse?

As you read these lyrics, do not only think about the people who disappointed you.

Think about your own word.

When people hear your name, do they feel confident that you will come through?

Or do they immediately wonder whether you will show up?

That answer has nothing to do with money.

Nothing to do with intelligence.

Nothing to do with talent.

It has everything to do with character.

FULL LYRICS

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

Alright Joe what’s pissing you off
how long you been in business to long what have you seen What do they say There coming the next day what happens big talk crooked walk What’s their favorite saying I’m broke I got bills to pay but everything said is as unsecure as every word every line is one more reason for me to want to say goodbye let’s set the story straight let’s make this heavier No mercy No filler
We’ll turn Chickens into worthless dirt a head punch might wake you up maybe you’ll keep track
Walk away don’t look back

You always say your coming
You never fucking show

Quarter past truth, your already late
Five more minutes — that’s your favorite phrase
Clock on the wall knows all your tricks
Every excuse makes me fucking sick

You swear on names you don’t respect
Smile real big while you dodge the check
Every promise comes cracked and thin
You don’t arrive you fade again

Say my name look me straight
Your word don’t weigh a fucking ounce of faith
I don’t wait I don’t bend
You don’t show that’s how it ends

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT

You hide behind luck behind bad timing
Behind fake apologies and perfect whining
You blame the road the world the rain
But the problem’s been you the whole damn game

You borrow trust like it’s free to take
But never return what you fucking break
I showed up solid night and day
You disappeared — same old way

You talk like steel you move like smoke
Every oath you swear is a fucking joke
No more calls no second guess
Your silence signed your address

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT

Why act shy every word is a lie The only truth is you don’t try
Why pretend to be something you’re not every word is like a shit on that spot

Enough no more excuses

I don’t hate you I don’t care
I just stopped pretending you were ever there
No hard feelings no regrets
Just facts carved in cement

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON

YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT

Say your coming one more time
I dare you

I dare you
You’re just a show no go

YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
Get the fuck out

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 1

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

The journey starts before the song really starts.

“Alright Joe what’s pissing you off”

That is almost me putting myself on the spot.

Forget trying to make it sound nice. Forget trying to explain thirty or forty years of dealing with workers, contractors, promises, excuses, no-shows, bullshit stories and people who somehow always have a reason why today is not their fault.

What is actually pissing me off?

That is where I wanted to begin because sometimes you carry something for so long that you stop even thinking about how much it bothers you. It just becomes part of doing business.

Another guy does not show up.

Another phone call.

Another excuse.

Another person says they are coming tomorrow.

You deal with it and move on because the work still has to get done.

But put enough of those days together and eventually somebody asks the right question.

What is pissing you off?

Well, how much time have you got?

“how long you been in business to long what have you seen”

Too long.

That answer makes me laugh because anybody who has been self-employed for decades probably understands it.

How long have you been in business?

Long enough.

Long enough to have seen good people come through the door and become people I could trust completely.

Long enough to have watched somebody start with almost no experience and turn into a damn good worker because they cared.

Long enough to know that a worker does not have to be perfect to be valuable.

And long enough to have heard enough bullshit that sometimes I can almost tell you the excuse before the other person does.

That is what “too long” means here.

It does not mean I regret being in business.

It means experience changes your ears.

When you are younger, you may hear the story.

When you have heard the same story fifty times from fifty different people, you hear the pattern.

That is a big difference.

“What do they say There coming the next day”

There it is.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow has saved more unreliable people than just about any word I can think of.

Tomorrow they will be there.

Tomorrow they will start.

Tomorrow they will finish.

Tomorrow everything is going to be different.

Tomorrow they will prove themselves.

Tomorrow they will pay you.

Tomorrow they will call.

Tomorrow they will straighten everything out.

I have nothing against tomorrow.

I have a problem when somebody keeps using tomorrow to escape today.

If you tell me you are coming tomorrow, I may organize work around you.

I may have equipment waiting.

I may have another worker expecting you.

I may have a customer expecting something to be completed.

I may change my own plans because I took you at your word.

That is what some people never seem to understand.

A promise does not only belong to the person making it.

The moment another person believes that promise, it becomes part of their day too.

Then tomorrow comes.

“what happens big talk crooked walk”

That is what happens.

Big talk.

Crooked walk.

I like that because it says what I have seen without needing ten paragraphs to say it.

The talk is straight.

The walk is crooked.

The promise sounds perfect.

The actions go somewhere else.

Some people can sell themselves beautifully.

Give them five minutes and they will tell you what a great worker they are.

They can operate everything.

They have done every kind of job.

They are never late.

They work harder than anybody.

Every previous employer loved them except the ones who were apparently idiots.

Every job they lost was somebody else’s fault.

Every problem followed them by complete coincidence.

Then you give them an opportunity.

Now we find out.

That is one thing I have always liked about work.

Eventually the work tells the truth.

You can bullshit me.

You cannot bullshit a job forever.

Either the work gets done or it does not.

Either you show up or you do not.

Either you know how to operate the machine or you do not.

Either you are willing to learn or you are not.

The job does not care about your speech.

That is why I have so much respect for quiet workers.

Some of the best workers do not sell themselves very well at all.

They just come in and work.

You find out what they are worth by watching them.

Then there are people who can sell you the moon and cannot deliver a wheelbarrow.

That is big talk, crooked walk.

“What’s their favorite saying I’m broke I got bills to pay”

I have heard that one plenty.

And I understand it.

Being broke is not funny when you are the one who is broke.

Bills do not stop because your life is difficult.

Rent still comes.

Food still costs money.

Families need things.

I am not making fun of somebody because they are struggling financially.

I have had good times in life and I have had times when things went completely the other way. I know life can change.

That is not the point of this lyric.

The point is what happens when somebody uses their hardship to convince you to give them an opportunity and then does not respect the opportunity after you give it to them.

I need the work.

I have bills.

Can you please give me a chance?

All right.

Here is the chance.

Then where the hell are you?

That is what drives me crazy.

You told me how badly you needed the opportunity.

I believed you.

I made room for you.

Maybe I turned somebody else away because I thought you were coming.

Now you are not here.

Then later you come back telling me you are still broke.

Of course you are still broke.

You keep walking away from the thing you said you needed.

At some point a person has to look at their own part in what keeps happening to them.

Not every bad situation is your fault.

That would be ridiculous.

People get knocked down by things they never caused.

But if the same problem keeps following you from job to job, relationship to relationship, opportunity to opportunity, eventually you have to ask whether the whole world is really doing this to you.

Maybe some of it is you.

That question becomes much more important later in the song.

“but everything said is as unsecure as every word every line is one more reason for me to want to say goodbye”

That is what happens when trust has been damaged too many times.

The person thinks they are giving you another reason to believe them.

You hear another reason not to.

That is an interesting point in any relationship because the same words can mean completely different things depending on the history behind them.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Coming from somebody who has never let you down, those words are enough.

You do not need a contract.

You do not need five phone calls.

You do not need them to swear on their mother, their children, the Bible or anything else.

They said they are coming.

Fine.

You believe them.

Now take exactly the same sentence from somebody who has failed to show up over and over.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

It almost becomes a joke.

The words did not change.

The person’s history changed what those words are worth.

That is important throughout this entire song.

I am not only angry about somebody missing work.

I am talking about what happens when a person destroys the value of their own language.

Think about that.

Your word is free when you give it.

It can become one of the most valuable things you have.

It can also become worthless.

And you decide which one happens.

Every time you say you will do something and then do it, you put a little more weight behind your word.

Every time you knowingly make a promise and walk away from it, you take some of that weight back out.

Eventually somebody can stand in front of you making the biggest promise of their life and you feel absolutely nothing.

You have heard it before.

That is where goodbye starts becoming easier.

“let’s set the story straight let’s make this heavier No mercy No filler”

Now I know what kind of song I want.

I do not want to dance around it.

I do not want to turn this into some polite little workplace lesson where everybody shakes hands at the end.

That is not where the emotion came from.

The emotion came from being fed up.

There is a place for patience.

There is a place for teaching.

There is a place for helping somebody who is trying.

I believe in all of that.

But there is also a point where being endlessly understanding starts becoming unfair to everybody else.

That is something people do not always talk about.

Suppose I have five people on a crew.

Four show up every day.

The fifth keeps disappearing.

The four dependable workers keep covering for the fifth.

They work harder.

They stay longer.

They deal with the consequences.

Then the fifth person comes back with another story and I give them another chance.

Who am I really being kind to?

The unreliable worker?

What about the four people who did what they were supposed to do?

At some point, endless chances for one person become disrespect toward everybody who never needed those chances.

That is why I wanted no mercy and no filler in the song.

Not physical mercy.

Not hurting somebody.

I mean no more mercy for the bullshit.

No more protecting excuses.

No more pretending a promise has value when experience says it does not.

Tell the story straight.

“We’ll turn Chickens into worthless dirt a head punch might wake you up maybe you’ll keep track”

That is anger talking.

I am not going to pretend it sounds gentle because it does not.

When somebody has pushed you far enough, your mind can go somewhere aggressive.

You think, what the hell is it going to take to wake you up?

Do I have to knock some sense into you?

People say things like that when they are furious.

The important part is what the song actually does with that anger.

It does not turn into instructions for violence.

It goes immediately somewhere else.

“Walk away don’t look back”

There is the answer.

Walk away.

That is stronger anyway.

Anybody can keep arguing.

Anybody can stay trapped in the same cycle.

The difficult part can be admitting that nothing you say is going to fix another person who has no interest in fixing themselves.

That took me time to learn.

When you run a business, you want people to work out.

Hiring people costs time.

Training people costs time.

Getting somebody familiar with the job takes time.

When you finally have someone who knows what is going on, you do not want to start over again.

So you may give one more chance.

Then another.

Maybe this time.

Maybe they finally understood.

Maybe whatever was going on in their life has settled down.

Sometimes that patience pays off.

People do change.

I have seen people grow.

I have seen people surprise me.

I do not believe everybody should be thrown away because they screwed up.

But the other side is also true.

Some people show you the same thing so many times that eventually refusing to believe them is not being cruel.

It is paying attention.

Walk away.

Do not look back.

That line moves us out of the introduction and into the real song.

Now there is no more wondering what I am angry about.

The first proper lyric puts it right on the table.

“You always say your coming
You never fucking show”

There it is.

The whole song could almost live inside those two lines.

What you say.

What you do.

The space between them.

That space is where trust dies.

If you tell me once that you are coming and something happens, we deal with it.

If you tell me twice and something happens again, maybe you had a terrible week.

Life can do that.

But if this becomes the normal relationship between us, I am no longer dealing with bad luck.

I am dealing with your pattern.

The word “always” matters.

You always say it.

The word “never” matters just as much.

You never do it.

Always promising.

Never arriving.

That is not a scheduling problem anymore.

That is character introducing itself.

And there is something else inside those lines.

They can leave the job site completely.

How many people have heard this in another part of life?

I am coming to see you.

I will be at your game.

I will pay you back.

I will help you move.

I will call you tonight.

I will change.

I will stop.

I will start.

I promise.

You can build an entire relationship around waiting for somebody to become the person they keep promising they are about to become.

Eventually you have to stop listening to the future they describe and look at the present they keep giving you.

That is what this song is beginning to do.

“Quarter past truth, your already late”

Now the clock enters the song.

I like the clock because the clock does not give a shit about the excuse.

If we agreed on seven and it is seven-fifteen, the clock is not attacking you.

It is telling the truth.

You are late.

That does not automatically make you a bad person.

But if you are always late and always lying about why, then the clock becomes one more witness against the story.

“Quarter past truth” is not only about fifteen minutes.

The truth arrived before you did.

The truth is already standing on the job.

Everybody can see it.

You said one thing.

Reality is showing us another.

Now you are already behind the truth before you even start explaining.

“Five more minutes — that’s your favorite phrase”

Anybody who has waited for a chronically late person knows what five minutes can mean.

It can mean twenty.

It can mean an hour.

Sometimes it means they have not even left yet.

That is what makes the phrase funny after you have heard it enough.

You stop taking the number seriously.

Five minutes is no longer a measurement of time.

It is a stall.

It is somebody trying to keep you from making another decision.

Do not leave.

Do not replace me.

Do not start without me.

Do not get angry yet.

Just give me five more minutes.

The person is buying time with trust they have already spent.

That cannot go on forever.

“Clock on the wall knows all your tricks”

I gave the clock a little personality there because after a while it feels like even the damn clock has seen this before.

Here we go again.

Same person.

Same promise.

Same five minutes.

The clock keeps moving while everybody else waits.

There is humour in that line, but underneath it is something that matters to me.

Time belongs to everybody.

My time is not more important because I own the business.

Your time is not less important because you work for somebody.

Respect has to go both ways.

If I tell a worker to be somewhere at a certain time, I should respect that time too.

If I tell a customer I will be there, their time matters.

If a customer schedules me and leaves me sitting around all day without any consideration, my time matters too.

The principle does not change depending on who has the bigger title.

When you repeatedly waste somebody’s time and lie while doing it, you are telling them something about how little you value what belongs to them.

That is why lateness becomes more than lateness in this song.

“Every excuse makes me fucking sick”

By this point I do not want another one.

I do not want the improved version.

I do not want the excuse with more details.

I do not want the dramatic version designed to make me feel guilty for questioning it.

Just tell me the truth.

That is probably one of the easiest ways to keep my respect when something goes wrong.

Tell me the truth.

“I screwed up.”

All right.

Now we have somewhere to start.

“I slept in.”

I may not like it, but at least we are dealing with reality.

“I forgot.”

Fine. Let us deal with that.

“I’m not coming.”

At least now I know.

A bad truth can still be useful because you can make a decision with it.

A lie keeps everybody stuck.

That is the difference between an explanation and an excuse.

One helps us understand what happened.

The other is usually trying to make responsibility disappear.

Responsibility does not disappear.

It lands on somebody else.

That is why the excuses become sickening after enough years.

I know who is going to pay for them.

Usually the person who showed up.

“You swear on names you don’t respect”

Now we move from excuses into promises.

I have heard people strengthen a promise by swearing on somebody they love.

Their children.

Their mother.

Their father.

Their family.

The idea is supposed to be that this promise must be true because surely they would never use that person’s name dishonestly.

Then they do exactly that.

Again.

That is why I wrote “names you don’t respect.”

If you repeatedly use somebody’s name to make a lie sound believable, what respect are you showing that name?

None.

And why should I need all of that anyway?

If your own name has a good reputation, your own name should be enough.

There are people I have known where if they told me, “Joe, I’ll be there,” that was it.

I did not need anything else.

I knew them.

Their history was standing behind the sentence.

That is powerful.

A person can spend years building that.

Then there are people who have to keep adding more and more to the promise because their own name no longer carries enough weight.

I swear.

I promise.

Believe me.

Trust me.

I would never do that.

I swear on this person.

I swear on that person.

The more decoration the promise needs, sometimes the less there is underneath it.

“Smile real big while you dodge the check”

This is another kind of person I have met.

Charm instead of responsibility.

They know how to smile.

They know how to joke.

They know how to turn the conversation.

They may even make you laugh while they are avoiding the exact reason you are speaking to them.

The “check” can be money.

It can also be the moment when responsibility comes due.

You said you were going to do something.

Now the bill has arrived.

Not necessarily a financial bill.

The bill for your word.

Are you going to pay it with action or dodge it with another smile?

“Every promise comes cracked and thin”

By now, I can hear the weakness before the promise is finished.

That is what experience does.

A new person might hear confidence.

Somebody who has been through the cycle hears the crack.

Think about a piece of concrete with a crack running through it.

It may still be standing.

It may still look solid from a distance.

But you know there is weakness inside it.

Put enough pressure on it and the weakness reveals itself.

That is what these promises feel like.

They arrive damaged.

The person is handing you something they have already broken too many times and expecting you to treat it like new.

I cannot.

“You don’t arrive you fade again”

Again.

That word carries history.

You disappear the same way you disappeared before.

Maybe at first you answer the phone.

Then the messages become shorter.

Then you stop answering.

Then a day goes by.

Then two.

Then maybe a week later you come back as though the whole thing should be forgotten.

That is the fade.

It is not even a clean ending.

A clean ending would require honesty.

“I’m done.”

“I can’t do this.”

“I don’t want the job.”

Those sentences may cause a problem, but at least they tell everybody where they stand.

Fading is different.

Fading leaves everybody else guessing while the person quietly removes themselves from the responsibility they accepted.

That brings us to the next confrontation.

“Say my name look me straight”

Now I want the distance gone.

Do not hide behind the phone.

Do not hide behind another person.

Do not give me another speech from somewhere else.

Stand in front of me.

Look at me.

Say my name.

Remember there is a person on the other side of your promise.

That matters because people can become very casual about disappointing somebody when they do not have to see the result.

It is easier to ignore a text.

It is easier not to answer.

It is easier to disappear.

Looking somebody in the eye is different.

Now you have to see the person whose day you affected.

The worker who carried your load.

The employer who defended you.

The friend who waited.

The family member who believed you.

The customer who planned around you.

Promises connect people.

That means broken promises affect people too.

“Your word don’t weigh a fucking ounce of faith”

By this point there is nothing left behind the word.

That may be one of the worst things a person can do to their own reputation.

You can lose money and make more.

You can lose a job and find another.

You can make a mistake and learn from it.

But when people stop believing your word, you have lost something that can take years to rebuild.

Faith in this line is not necessarily religious faith.

It is belief.

When you tell me something, do I believe there is a future action attached to those words?

That is what a promise asks from another person.

Believe me now for something I will do later.

That is trust.

Once you repeatedly break it, the other person stops giving you that future belief.

Your word becomes weightless.

You can make the same sounds.

You can say the same sentence.

Nothing lands anymore.

“I don’t wait I don’t bend
You don’t show that’s how it ends”

Here is the first real boundary in the song.

Until now, much of the power has belonged to the unreliable person.

They tell you when they are coming.

They make you wait.

They give the excuse.

They decide when to answer.

They disappear.

They come back.

That entire cycle gives them control over everybody who keeps participating in it.

These lines take that control away.

I do not wait.

I do not bend.

You do not show.

That is how it ends.

Simple.

There is something freeing about reaching that point.

You are no longer trying to solve the person.

You are no longer trying to decide whether excuse number twenty-seven is more believable than excuse number twenty-six.

You no longer need to.

The standard has become clear.

Show up.

Tell the truth.

Carry what you agreed to carry.

If you continually refuse, I make my decision.

Then the chorus arrives.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON”

This is where all the frustration from the opening finally gets a name.

The worthless chicken.

It is insulting.

It is supposed to be.

But what is actually being called worthless here?

Look at everything that brought us to the chorus.

The promises.

The excuses.

The disappearing.

The word that carries no weight.

The title is attacking what this person has made themselves worth to the people who need to depend on them.

If I cannot rely on you, what value does all the talk have?

If you tell me you are a great worker but you are never there, what good is your ability to the job?

If you tell me you are loyal but disappear the moment things become difficult, what good is the word loyal?

That is where “you talk then you quit” comes from.

Talking happens before the test.

Quitting happens when the test arrives.

“All that noise” is everything the person said about themselves.

“But you ain’t shit” is the anger of realizing none of it had enough substance to survive responsibility.

Then we get to the pattern again.

“Always got a reason
When it’s time to stand up
You disappear for a season”

It is not random.

That is the accusation.

You disappear when responsibility arrives.

When you need something, you can find the phone.

When you need money, you can find my number.

When you need work, you know where I am.

When somebody else needs you, suddenly the whole world becomes impossible.

That is why the chorus has no sympathy left.

The sympathy was already used.

The chances were already given.

Now we are describing the pattern exactly as it has been lived.

The second half of the chorus keeps pushing on the promise itself.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT”

“Say your on the way.”

Go ahead.

I have heard it before.

“Say it again.”

That is almost sarcasm now.

Tell me the same thing you told me yesterday.

“Say it every day.”

At some point repetition does not strengthen a promise.

It proves how empty it is.

That is why “all talk, no commit” sits at the centre of the chorus.

Commitment is where words become action.

Anybody can say yes when yes costs nothing.

Commitment begins when keeping that yes becomes inconvenient.

It is cold.

You are tired.

The job is difficult.

Something else sounds more enjoyable.

Nobody is standing over you forcing you to go.

That is when your word meets your character.

“DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT”

That line is rough, but there is actually a very simple piece of advice inside it.

Be honest before somebody depends on you.

If you do not want the job, say no.

If you cannot make the commitment, say no.

If you are not ready, say so.

If you need help, ask.

There is nothing shameful about not being able to do everything.

Nobody can.

The problem starts when you pretend you can because you want the opportunity, the money, the approval, or the appearance of being dependable, and then somebody else has to pay for the truth later.

I would rather hear an honest no than a dishonest yes.

An honest no lets me make another plan.

A dishonest yes makes me believe I already have one.

That is a much bigger problem.

The chorus has now established exactly who this song is confronting.

We know the pattern.

We know what their word is worth.

We know what happens when responsibility arrives.

The next verse is where the song starts taking away every hiding place they have left.

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 2

“You hide behind luck behind bad timing
Behind fake apologies and perfect whining”

Now the song starts stripping away the places this person hides.

Luck.

Timing.

Apologies.

Complaints.

There is always something between them and responsibility.

That repeated word “behind” matters because that is exactly what is happening.

They are hiding behind things.

Bad luck can be real.

Bad timing can be real.

An apology can be real.

But if every problem in your life is always caused by something outside of you, eventually somebody has to ask the obvious question.

Are you ever responsible for anything?

That is not cruel.

That is reality.

I have known people who seem to have the worst luck in the world until you start looking closer.

Then you realize some of that “bad luck” is really poor decisions.

Some of that “bad timing” is really bad planning.

Some of those apologies are not apologies at all.

They are little speeches designed to make you feel guilty for being disappointed.

That is why I called them fake apologies.

A real apology usually has responsibility inside it.

“I screwed up.”

“I should have called.”

“I should have been there.”

“I let you down.”

Those words mean something because the person is putting the weight back where it belongs.

On themselves.

A fake apology usually sounds different.

“I’m sorry, but you have to understand.”

“I’m sorry, but nobody told me.”

“I’m sorry, but the weather.”

“I’m sorry, but traffic.”

“I’m sorry, but my phone.”

“I’m sorry, but everybody else.”

By the time they are finished apologizing, somehow they have done nothing wrong.

That is not an apology.

That is an excuse wearing nicer clothes.

Then there is “perfect whining.”

That line makes me laugh because some people really do become excellent at complaining.

They may not be perfect workers.

They may not be perfect at keeping promises.

But they can give you a flawless explanation for why nothing is their fault.

There is an irony in that.

Imagine if the same amount of effort they put into excuses went into the work.

Imagine if all that creativity went into solving the problem instead of describing why the problem belongs to somebody else.

They might actually surprise themselves.

“You blame the road the world the rain
But the problem’s been you the whole damn game”

This is where the song stops letting them point outward.

The road.

The world.

The rain.

All of those things can create real problems.

I have worked in industries where weather matters.

I know what rain can do to a job.

I know what roads can be like.

I know machines break.

I know schedules get destroyed by things nobody planned.

So I am not saying circumstances never matter.

They do.

The point is the pattern.

If you are always the person who has an excuse no matter what the conditions are, then maybe the conditions are not the whole story.

At some point you have to look at the one thing that travels with you everywhere.

You.

That is not an easy thing for anybody to do.

It is much easier to believe the world keeps doing things to us.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes we are helping create the exact result we keep complaining about.

I think everybody has to face that at some point in life.

Not just bad workers.

All of us.

There have been moments in my own life where I have had to ask whether I was part of the problem.

That is not weakness.

That is where growth begins.

If I am part of the problem, then at least I have some power to change it.

If everybody else is always responsible, I have no power at all.

That is why accountability is not punishment.

It is actually one of the few things that gives a person control back.

If I say, “I did this,” I can also say, “I am going to do something different next time.”

That possibility does not exist while I am blaming the road, the rain, the employer, the customer, the crew, the family, and half the planet.

“But the problem’s been you the whole damn game.”

That is the line where the mirror gets turned around.

The song is basically saying enough looking out the window.

Look in the mirror.

“You borrow trust like it’s free to take
But never return what you fucking break”

This may be one of the most important lines in the whole song.

Trust is strange because we give it away before we know whether somebody deserves it.

Any time you hire someone new, you are doing that.

You look at the person.

You listen to them.

Maybe you check their experience.

Maybe somebody recommended them.

Then at some point you have to take a chance.

You have to trust them enough to put them in the plan.

That is borrowed trust.

They have not earned years of confidence yet.

You are lending them some based on what they told you.

That is a gift.

People do not always realize that.

When somebody gives you an opportunity, they are not only giving you work.

They are giving you belief before you have fully earned it.

They are saying, I am going to build part of my day around what you just told me.

That has value.

Then the person breaks it.

And what happens?

The employer has to adjust.

The crew has to carry extra.

The customer may be affected.

Somebody else absorbs the cost.

That is why the lyric says you never return what you break.

You borrowed trust.

You damaged it.

Then you left the bill behind for everybody else.

That is exactly how repeated unreliability works.

The person making excuses may think the damage ends when the day ends.

It does not.

The next time they make a promise, the old promise is standing beside them.

That is the part people forget.

Trust has memory.

You can say, “Forget about last time.”

Trust does not work that way.

You can forgive somebody and still remember what happened.

You can give another chance and still be more cautious.

You can want somebody to succeed and still stop building your schedule around them.

Those are not contradictions.

That is experience.

“I showed up solid night and day
You disappeared — same old way”

Now we have the contrast again.

One person stood solid.

One disappeared.

That word “solid” matters in a song that has already used cracked promises and smoke.

Solid means something you can build on.

If somebody is solid, you know where they are.

You know what they stand for.

You know what to expect.

That does not mean they never fail.

It means their pattern gives you confidence.

“I showed up solid night and day.”

That line is not saying I was superhuman.

It is saying I was there.

Sometimes presence is the whole difference.

You do not have to be the strongest person.

You do not have to be the smartest.

You do not need to be perfect.

But if you are there, we have something to work with.

If you disappear, there is nothing to work with.

That is what makes “same old way” so frustrating.

The person has not only disappointed you.

They have disappointed you in exactly the way you already expected.

There is something almost worse about that.

You gave them another chance hoping the pattern would break.

Instead, the pattern proved itself again.

That is when people start feeling foolish for believing.

And nobody likes feeling foolish.

“You talk like steel you move like smoke”

I like this line because it gives the person two completely different materials.

Steel and smoke.

Steel has weight.

Steel carries loads.

Steel is used because people trust its strength.

Smoke has no weight you can depend on.

You reach for it and there is nothing there.

That is the entire character in one picture.

They talk like steel.

Listen to them and you would think they are the strongest, toughest, most dependable person who ever walked onto a job.

Then responsibility arrives.

Smoke.

Gone.

That difference between image and action shows up everywhere in life.

People spend a lot of energy trying to look strong.

Trying to sound successful.

Trying to sound confident.

Trying to convince people they are somebody worth trusting.

The easiest way to become that person is much less exciting.

Do what you said you would do.

That is it.

You do not need to perform strength if you live it.

“Every oath you swear is a fucking joke”

Once trust falls far enough, even serious words lose their seriousness.

The person may be completely sincere in the moment.

That is another thing worth thinking about.

Sometimes unreliable people are not consciously lying every single time.

They may genuinely believe themselves when they make the promise.

“I will be there tomorrow.”

They may mean it at eight o’clock at night.

Then morning arrives and the intention is not strong enough to survive inconvenience.

That is still a problem.

Good intentions are not the same as commitment.

A person can honestly intend to do something and still develop a reputation for never following through.

From the outside, the result is the same.

People stop believing.

That is why your oath can become a joke even if you are serious while you are saying it.

If your history contradicts your promises, history usually wins.

“No more calls no second guess
Your silence signed your address”

Now the person waiting is finished chasing.

No more calls.

That matters.

How many times do you call somebody who said they were coming?

Once?

Twice?

Five times?

At some point you start feeling ridiculous.

Why am I chasing the person who asked me for the opportunity?

Why am I begging you to come to the job you told me you needed?

That is backwards.

The person who wants the responsibility should be chasing the responsibility.

I should not have to convince them to keep their own word.

“No second guess” means the decision has finally become clear.

Before, maybe there was doubt.

Maybe I am being too hard.

Maybe something really happened.

Maybe they deserve another chance.

That conversation can happen in your own head for a long time.

Then silence answers it.

“Your silence signed your address.”

I love that image because silence becomes a signature.

You did not have the courage to say where you stand.

Fine.

Your absence signed it for you.

The place you live now, as far as this relationship is concerned, is your own silence.

You chose not to answer.

You chose not to explain honestly.

You chose not to show.

That becomes the address where I leave the whole problem.

I do not need to keep knocking.

That line is the moment the chase stops.

Then the chorus comes back.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON”

The words have not changed.

The emotional weight has.

The first time the chorus came around, it felt like an accusation based on the pattern we had already seen.

Now it feels more proven.

The second verse has removed every remaining excuse.

You blamed luck.

Timing.

The road.

The rain.

You borrowed trust.

You disappeared again.

You talked like steel.

You moved like smoke.

You went silent.

Now when the chorus says “you talk then you quit,” it is not only anger talking.

The song has built the case.

That is why I do not need to explain the entire chorus again.

We already know what the worthless chicken does.

What has changed is that there is less hope left.

The chorus is becoming less of a warning and more of a conclusion.

The second half returns too.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT”

At this stage “say it again” almost sounds like a challenge.

Go ahead.

Tell me you are on the way again.

I already know what the sentence weighs.

Nothing.

That is what repeated dishonesty does.

It takes normal language and empties it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I promise.”

“Trust me.”

“I’m coming.”

All of those can be powerful words.

In the wrong mouth, after enough broken history, they become noise.

That is not because the words failed.

The person failed the words.

That brings us into one of the roughest sections in the song.

“Why act shy every word is a lie The only truth is you don’t try”

Now the person may be acting embarrassed.

Maybe they have finally been confronted.

Maybe they know the story is wearing thin.

So they act shy.

They look down.

They soften their voice.

They say they feel terrible.

But the song is done being impressed by the performance.

Why act shy now?

Where was that concern when everybody was waiting?

Where was that embarrassment when somebody else had to do your work?

Where was it when you made the promise?

That is what the lyric is asking.

“The only truth is you don’t try.”

That is harsh.

But it is also the point where the song stops arguing over the details.

Was the road bad?

Was your phone dead?

Did you really sleep in?

Was there actually a problem?

At some point, who cares?

The pattern says you are not trying hard enough to become dependable.

That is the only truth the listener still trusts.

Now, I want to be careful with something here.

Not everybody who struggles is lazy.

Not everybody who misses work is not trying.

People deal with things you may know nothing about.

Health.

Family.

Mental strain.

Financial pressure.

Addiction.

Grief.

All kinds of things can affect a person’s ability to function.

This song is not pretending those realities do not exist.

The target has been clear from the beginning.

The person who repeatedly lies, repeatedly promises, repeatedly disappears, and repeatedly refuses responsibility.

That is different from somebody honestly struggling and trying to get their life together.

Truth matters there too.

If you are struggling, say you are struggling.

If you need help, say you need help.

That honesty gives people something real to respond to.

The lie takes that possibility away.

“Why pretend to be something you’re not every word is like a shit on that spot”

This line is deliberately ugly.

There is no polite metaphor here.

Every word is making the mess worse.

That is what happens when the relationship has reached this point.

The person keeps trying to talk their way out.

Every new sentence lands badly.

The apology lands badly.

The promise lands badly.

The excuse lands badly.

Nothing cleans up what happened because the person still has not changed the only thing that matters.

Their behaviour.

That is why words can actually make it worse.

If you already broke trust, do not give me a bigger promise.

Give me evidence.

Do not swear harder.

Do better.

Do not explain longer.

Change something.

That is the only thing that can begin rebuilding what was lost.

“Enough no more excuses”

There is the break.

Two thoughts.

Enough.

No more excuses.

The whole song has been moving toward that.

This is where the conversation ends.

Everything before this was frustration building.

Now the decision is made.

Enough does not mean I have proved every excuse false.

I do not need to.

That is important.

Sometimes people get trapped trying to prove another person lied about every single detail.

You may never know.

Maybe the truck really did break down that one time.

Maybe the phone really did die.

Maybe the alarm genuinely failed.

It does not matter anymore if the overall pattern is clear.

You do not need a courtroom.

You need enough information to decide what you are willing to keep accepting.

That is what “enough” means.

I have seen enough.

I have heard enough.

I have waited enough.

I am done.

Then something interesting happens.

The song gets calmer.

“I don’t hate you I don’t care”

That line is colder than everything before it.

All the swearing.

All the frustration.

All the insults.

And then this.

I do not hate you.

I do not care.

There is a huge emotional difference between those two states.

Hatred is still involvement.

You are still spending energy on the person.

You are still carrying them around in your mind.

You may still want them to understand what they did.

You may still want an apology.

You may still want justice.

Not caring means something has ended.

The person no longer gets that energy.

That is why I think this is one of the heaviest lines in the song.

The chorus sounds meaner.

This line is actually more final.

“I just stopped pretending you were ever there”

That is a brutal thing to say to somebody, but in this context it has a specific meaning.

Were you really there if nobody could count on you?

You may have appeared occasionally.

You may have worked some days.

You may have made promises.

But being there means more than occupying space.

Being there means becoming part of the structure.

When people think of the job, they know you are part of it.

When something goes wrong, you are still there.

When the easy part is over, you are still there.

That is presence.

If everybody has to plan for the possibility that you will disappear, you are never fully part of the plan.

That is why the lyric says I stopped pretending you were ever there.

The relationship was built around an absence disguised as presence.

“No hard feelings no regrets
Just facts carved in cement”

Now we are in my world again.

Cement.

Once it sets, it does not care about your explanation.

The shape is there.

The facts have hardened.

You said you were coming.

You did not.

You promised again.

You disappeared.

You came back.

You repeated it.

That history is now carved in cement.

You can tell me I misunderstood.

You can tell me this time is different.

You can tell me I am being unfair.

But some facts do not need another argument.

That is what gives this line its calmness.

“No hard feelings.”

I am not trying to destroy you.

“No regrets.”

I do not regret finally making the decision.

“Just facts carved in cement.”

This is what happened.

That is where I leave it.

There is something freeing about facts when emotion has been running the whole conversation.

You do not have to hate somebody to remove them from your life.

You do not have to scream forever.

You do not need revenge.

Sometimes you just need to accept what the pattern has already shown you.

Then the chorus returns one final time.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT
ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT
ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON”

Now it sounds different again.

The first chorus was confrontation.

The second was confirmation.

This one is dismissal.

The person singing is no longer trying to get through to the other person.

That part is over.

The chorus is almost the label on the box before it gets carried out the door.

Nothing new has to be discovered about this pattern.

We know exactly what it is.

The second half follows.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY
ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT”

By now, “say it again” is almost dark comedy.

There is no belief left.

That is what makes it funny.

The promise has become so predictable that the listener can say it for the person.

You are on the way.

Of course you are.

Five more minutes.

Of course.

Tomorrow.

Sure.

At some point the bullshit becomes so familiar that it writes itself.

That is probably why anybody who has dealt with this kind of person can laugh at parts of the song even while agreeing with every angry word.

They recognize the routine.

Then we reach the closing challenge.

“Say your coming one more time
I dare you”

There is nowhere else for the song to go except directly at the person.

Go ahead.

Say it.

Give me the line one more time.

You already know I do not believe you.

I already know you know I do not believe you.

That is what makes the dare work.

It is not inviting another promise.

It is exposing how ridiculous another promise would be.

“I dare you”

The repetition puts more pressure on it.

Come on.

Say it again.

Let us hear the lie with both of us knowing exactly what it is.

There is anger here, but there is humour too.

That humour matters.

The song would become exhausting if it were only rage.

The dare gives it a little grin.

Not a friendly grin.

More like, go ahead, make my point for me.

“You’re just a show no go”

That may be the simplest summary of the person in the entire lyric.

Show.

No go.

All appearance.

No movement.

They know how to look the part.

Sound the part.

Promise the part.

They do not live the part.

That is a problem in every part of life.

People can build entire identities around presentation.

Social media makes that easier than ever.

You can show people the version of yourself you want them to see.

Hard-working.

Successful.

Loyal.

Happy.

Strong.

Dependable.

But eventually the people closest to you experience something different from the image.

That is where “show no go” reaches beyond work.

Who are you when nobody is watching the show?

Who are you when there is no applause?

Who are you when keeping your word becomes inconvenient?

That person is usually much closer to the truth.

Then the final line arrives.

“YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
Get the fuck out”

There is no soft landing.

The song does not suddenly become diplomatic.

That would betray everything that came before it.

We have already tried patience.

We have already heard the explanations.

We have already watched the pattern.

We have already reached indifference.

Now the boundary becomes physical in the simplest possible way.

Leave.

Get out.

You no longer have a place in the plan.

That is not about hating the person.

It is about protecting everything around them from the pattern they refuse to change.

The job.

The crew.

The customer.

The time.

The trust.

Sometimes removing one unreliable person is not only a decision about them.

It is a decision in favour of everybody else.

That matters.

The good worker sees whether standards mean anything.

The dependable worker notices whether showing up matters.

The person who has carried extra weight notices whether anybody respects that sacrifice.

If one person can repeatedly fail everyone and nothing changes, eventually the dependable people start asking themselves why they bother.

That is how one person’s behaviour can poison a whole crew.

So “get the fuck out” may sound like the angriest line in the song.

In some ways, it is also the most responsible.

The cycle is over.

The person who kept creating the problem no longer gets endless access to everyone else’s time.

And that is where the journey ends.

The song started with me asking what was pissing me off.

It ended with a decision.

That is the movement.

At the beginning, everything is built-up frustration.

Years of hearing the same bullshit.

Years of people promising tomorrow.

Years of watching good workers carry bad workers.

Then the song starts identifying the pattern.

You say you are coming.

You do not show.

You are late.

You lie about the time.

You swear on names.

You borrow trust.

You blame everything around you.

You disappear.

Then something changes.

I stop waiting.

I stop calling.

I stop debating.

I stop pretending.

Finally, I stop caring.

That is the real journey inside YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN.

The anger gets the attention.

The lesson is about boundaries.

It is about understanding that compassion and accountability are not enemies.

You can understand that somebody is struggling and still expect honesty.

You can give somebody a second chance without giving them twenty.

You can believe people can change without pretending they already have.

You can forgive somebody and still decide you will never depend on them again.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

The song also leaves something for the person on the other side of the accusation.

If you recognize yourself in any part of this, the answer is not complicated.

You do not have to become perfect tomorrow.

You do not have to make a giant speech.

Start making your word heavier.

Say less.

Do more.

If you are going to be late, call before somebody has to chase you.

If you cannot do something, say so before somebody builds a plan around you.

If you make a mistake, own it.

If you need help, ask.

If you promise something, remember another person may be depending on that promise.

Then do it again tomorrow.

And the day after that.

That is how a bad reputation changes.

Not through one huge promise.

Through small actions repeated long enough that people begin believing again.

The same way trust was lost is often the way it has to be rebuilt.

One action at a time.

That may be the final irony of this song.

For all the noise in the chorus, the solution is quiet.

Show up.

Tell the truth.

Keep your word.

That is it.

Everything else is just another excuse.

SECTION TWO

THE STORY

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN did not come from one worker, one company, one broken promise, or one bad morning.

It came from years of hearing the same excuses from different people.

The names changed.

The faces changed.

The jobs changed.

The excuses stayed almost exactly the same.

When you have been in business as long as I have, you eventually recognize certain people before they have fully introduced themselves. You hear the confidence. You hear everything they say they can do. You hear how badly they need the work. You hear how dependable they are going to be.

They tell you they will be there first thing in the morning.

Morning arrives.

They do not.

Then the phone call comes, assuming they answer at all.

The alarm did not go off.

The vehicle would not start.

The phone died.

Something happened at home.

They thought the job was starting later.

They misunderstood the directions.

They are already on the way.

They are five minutes away.

Five minutes becomes half an hour.

Half an hour becomes silence.

By then, the work has already started without them.

Someone else is carrying what they were supposed to carry.

That is the part people often do not see.

When one worker does not show up, the responsibility does not disappear.

It moves.

Another worker takes it.

The crew works longer.

The machine sits.

The customer waits.

The schedule changes.

The business owner has to make another call and explain something they did not cause.

The person who stayed home may think they only missed one day.

They may not understand that their decision changed the day for everybody else.

I have lived through that more times than I care to count.

I have also heard every kind of promise that follows.

It will never happen again.

Tomorrow will be different.

They really need the job.

They have bills to pay.

They are broke.

They are serious this time.

They swear they will be there.

Then tomorrow arrives and brings another excuse.

That cycle is where the song began.

Not with one moment of anger.

With accumulated frustration.

There is a difference between losing your temper over one mistake and reaching the end of your patience after seeing the same behaviour for years.

This song comes from the second one.

I have never expected perfection from workers.

That would be ridiculous.

People make mistakes.

Equipment breaks.

Weather changes.

Families have emergencies.

Someone can wake up sick.

A vehicle really can fail.

A person can honestly misunderstand a time or a location.

Those things happen.

The issue is not that something went wrong.

The issue is what the person does when it happens.

Do they call?

Do they tell the truth?

Do they take responsibility?

Do they try to make it right?

Or do they disappear until they think enough time has passed?

That tells me far more about a person than the original mistake ever could.

A good worker can make a serious mistake and still keep my respect if they are honest about it.

A dishonest worker can do a small thing and destroy trust because they lie while doing it.

That distinction has always mattered to me.

I have worked around people with different levels of experience, education, strength, ability, and confidence. Some arrived knowing very little but were eager to learn. They listened. They asked questions. They watched carefully. They improved because they cared.

They may not have been the fastest person on the first day.

That did not matter.

What mattered was that they came back on the second day.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

They kept learning.

They became valuable because people could depend on them.

That kind of worker earns patience.

They earn respect.

They earn opportunities.

Then there is the other kind.

The person who arrives with a speech.

They know everything.

They have done everything.

They have run every machine.

They have built every kind of project.

They tell you how every other employer failed to recognize their talent.

They tell you the last company was badly managed.

The supervisor did not understand them.

The other workers were jealous.

Nothing was ever their fault.

Then you put them on the job and begin discovering why every previous story ended the same way.

Big talk can hide very little once the work begins.

A job has a way of revealing people.

Rain reveals them.

Pressure reveals them.

Fatigue reveals them.

Responsibility reveals them.

The moment something becomes uncomfortable, character steps forward.

Some people tighten their boots and keep going.

Some people start searching for the nearest exit.

That is why I have always said reliability can be more valuable than talent.

Talent without discipline can create trouble.

Talent without honesty can create mistrust.

Talent without consistency can make everybody else’s job harder.

A person does not become valuable only because they know how to do something.

They become valuable when others can trust them to do it.

I have seen quiet workers become the backbone of a crew.

They did not need to announce themselves.

They did not talk about how hard they worked.

They simply worked.

They arrived prepared.

They noticed what needed to be done.

They helped without being asked every five minutes.

They did not spend the day looking for ways to avoid responsibility.

When something went wrong, they stayed involved.

Those are the people you remember.

They are also the people you call again.

The unreliable person often thinks the employer only remembers the day they missed.

That is not how it works.

You remember the disruption.

You remember the unanswered calls.

You remember having to change the schedule.

You remember the other workers asking whether the person was coming.

You remember the customer waiting.

You remember the promise made the night before.

Most of all, you remember that you believed them.

That is what makes repeated excuses feel personal.

It is not only lost labour.

It is broken trust.

Trust is invisible, but you can feel exactly when it leaves.

At the beginning, you give someone the benefit of the doubt.

The second time, you become cautious.

The third time, you start preparing for disappointment before it happens.

Eventually you stop including them in the plan.

That is often the real ending.

Not a fight.

Not a dramatic firing.

Not a final speech.

You simply stop depending on them.

Once that happens, the relationship has already changed.

That feeling appears in the song when the anger cools into indifference.

“I don’t hate you, I don’t care.”

That line did not come from wanting to sound cruel.

It came from knowing what happens after somebody has used every chance you gave them.

Anger means you are still emotionally involved.

You are still arguing because part of you believes the person might understand.

Indifference is different.

Indifference means you have accepted that nothing you say will change the pattern.

You no longer need an explanation.

You have heard enough of them.

I have reached that point with people in business.

Many business owners probably have.

At first, you try to help.

You explain expectations.

You give another chance.

You adjust.

You listen to the story.

You may even defend the person when someone else says they cannot be trusted.

You hope they prove everybody wrong.

Then they prove everybody right.

That is one of the most frustrating parts.

Sometimes the person had every opportunity to succeed.

The work was there.

The chance was there.

People were willing to teach them.

Nobody expected perfection.

All they had to do was show up, be honest, and try.

They still found a way not to do it.

That is difficult to watch because wasted potential is different from a lack of ability.

Someone who cannot do a job may need training.

Someone who refuses to take responsibility needs something training cannot provide.

They need to decide that their own word matters.

Nobody else can make that decision for them.

You can offer work.

You can offer guidance.

You can offer patience.

You cannot lend someone character.

That has to come from inside them.

The title came from wanting to describe the person in a way that was harsh, memorable, and almost funny.

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN sounds ridiculous until you understand the picture behind it.

A chicken can make a lot of noise.

It can run around creating confusion.

It can act busy without accomplishing anything.

Then, when the moment comes to stand still and face something, it runs.

That felt exactly like some of the people I had known.

All noise.

No weight.

All promises.

No arrival.

They talk like they are built from steel.

Then responsibility walks into the room and they disappear like smoke.

That contrast became one of the strongest ideas in the song.

The title also gave the anger somewhere to go without turning the song into a speech.

I did not want careful language.

I did not want a polite workplace discussion.

I wanted the frustration to sound the way frustration really sounds after years of hearing bullshit.

Sometimes the truth does not arrive wearing a tie.

Sometimes it kicks the door open.

The opening of the lyric captures that moment.

“Alright Joe, what’s pissing you off?”

That is almost the voice inside my own head asking me to stop holding back.

How long have you been in business?

What have you seen?

What do they always say?

What happens the next day?

The answer kept coming back the same.

Big talk.

Crooked walk.

People can say anything when no action is required.

The real test begins when morning arrives.

That is why time appears so strongly throughout the song.

“Five more minutes” is not just a phrase.

It is the sound of somebody delaying the truth.

They are not five minutes away.

They may not even be coming.

But they still want to keep you waiting because telling the truth would require them to admit what they are doing.

That is disrespectful.

It treats another person’s time as though it has no value.

When you are running a business, time has consequences.

Workers are being paid.

Equipment may be rented.

Fuel is being used.

Customers have schedules.

Other trades may be waiting.

One person saying “five more minutes” can become expensive very quickly.

That does not mean every late person is a bad person.

Again, life happens.

The problem is the pattern.

The person who is late once usually apologizes and tries not to repeat it.

The person in this song turns lateness into a personality.

They are always coming.

Never arriving.

Always promising.

Never delivering.

Always explaining.

Never changing.

The phrase “quarter past truth” came from that exact feeling.

The clock says one thing.

The person says another.

The clock usually wins.

There is another part of the song that grew directly from years of dealing with empty words.

“You swear on names you don’t respect.”

I have heard people swear on family members, children, parents, and everything they claim matters to them.

They use those names as proof.

Then they break the promise anyway.

After a while, even the oath becomes part of the performance.

That always bothered me.

If you need to swear on somebody’s name every time you speak, maybe the problem is not that people refuse to trust you.

Maybe the problem is that you have given them no reason to.

A person with a dependable reputation does not need to decorate every promise.

They can say, “I’ll be there.”

People believe them because experience has already introduced them.

That is the kind of reputation worth building.

The opposite reputation also builds itself.

People begin warning each other.

Do not schedule around them.

Do not lend them money.

Do not trust the deadline.

Have somebody else ready.

Assume they may not come.

Once people begin planning around your unreliability, your name has already become a problem.

That is what the song means when it talks about every word losing weight.

A promise should carry something.

Confidence.

History.

Trust.

When nothing stands behind it, the words become noise.

I have heard plenty of noise.

That does not mean I stopped believing in people.

Some of the best people I have known came through work.

I have seen workers remain loyal during difficult times.

I have seen people push through terrible weather because the job had to be finished.

I have seen people help others without being asked.

I have seen workers admit mistakes that nobody else had noticed because their honesty mattered more than avoiding blame.

Those moments stay with me too.

They are the reason I know the difference.

You cannot fully understand an unreliable person until you have worked beside someone dependable.

A dependable person changes the atmosphere.

You do not have to watch them constantly.

You do not have to chase them.

You do not have to wonder what story will arrive next.

Their presence creates confidence.

That may sound simple, but simplicity does not make it unimportant.

Many of the strongest things in life are simple.

Tell the truth.

Keep your word.

Show up.

Do the best you can.

Admit when you are wrong.

Respect the people depending on you.

None of those ideas require a university degree.

None require money.

None require extraordinary talent.

They require a decision.

That is why excuses become so frustrating.

The person often knows exactly what they should do.

They simply choose not to do it.

Then they expect another person to absorb the consequences.

That can happen at work, but it also happens everywhere else.

The same person who leaves a crew waiting may leave a friend waiting.

The same person who breaks promises to an employer may break promises at home.

The same habit can follow someone into every relationship they have.

Work exposes it because the results are visible.

The machine sits.

The job waits.

The crew notices.

At home, the damage can be quieter.

A child waits at a window.

A partner stops believing.

A friend stops calling.

The setting changes, but the lesson remains.

Your word becomes part of how people experience you.

That is why this song eventually grew beyond the workplace.

I may have written it from business experience, but I was writing about character.

A workplace simply gave the behaviour somewhere visible to stand.

There is also humour in the song, even with all the anger.

The phrase “worthless chicken” is so blunt that people may laugh the first time they hear it.

That is fine.

Sometimes humour lets a hard truth enter the room.

People laugh because they immediately picture somebody.

Almost everyone has known a person who fits the title.

The worker who is always around the corner.

The subcontractor who promises Monday without saying which Monday.

The friend who is on the way while still sitting at home.

The person who asks for another chance before finishing the excuse for the last one.

The humour makes the title memorable.

The experience makes it true.

I did not write the song hoping an unreliable person would hear it and suddenly change.

People rarely change because somebody insults them.

They change when they finally become tired of their own pattern.

The song is not a repair manual for them.

It is a release for everybody who has carried their weight.

It says what many people are too polite to say.

Enough.

No more excuses.

Do not tell me again.

Do not promise again.

Do not ask me to ignore what you have already shown me.

That is the real turning point in the story.

The person singing is no longer negotiating.

The decision has been made.

The calls stop.

The waiting stops.

The second chances stop.

The person is told to walk away.

That does not mean the anger disappears instantly.

It means the relationship is no longer controlling the day.

There is strength in reaching that point.

Sometimes people hold on to unreliable workers, broken partnerships, or dishonest relationships because they keep hoping the next promise will be different.

Hope can be valuable.

It can also keep you trapped when evidence has already answered the question.

There comes a time when believing the pattern is not negativity.

It is wisdom.

I learned that lesson through experience.

I probably gave some people more chances than they deserved because I wanted to believe them.

Most business owners have likely done the same.

You see potential.

You hear the struggle.

You understand what it means to need money.

You know families are depending on paycheques.

You do not want to give up on somebody too quickly.

That compassion can be a good quality.

It becomes a problem when the other person uses it as protection from responsibility.

There is nothing kind about allowing one unreliable person to keep hurting dependable people.

The good workers notice.

They see who keeps disappearing.

They see who keeps getting another chance.

They see themselves doing extra work.

If the pattern continues, frustration spreads through the crew.

Accountability is not only about punishing someone who failed.

It is also about respecting everybody who came through.

That part mattered while writing this song.

The anger may be directed at the worthless chicken, but the respect belongs to the workers who carried the day.

They are the hidden centre of the story.

Without them, the job would not be completed.

Without them, businesses would not survive.

Without them, excuses would have nowhere to land.

I wanted the song to be heavy because the frustration felt heavy.

No mercy.

No filler.

The chorus needed to sound like the final answer after years of conversation.

Not another warning.

Not another discussion.

The final answer.

“You talk, then you quit.”

That is the entire pattern in six words.

“All that noise, but you ain’t shit.”

That is what big talk becomes when no action follows.

“Always got a reason when it’s time to stand up.”

That is the moment responsibility exposes the person.

“You disappear for a season.”

That is the familiar silence after the promise fails.

Then they return when they need something.

The song does not welcome them back.

By the end, the language becomes even more direct.

“Say you’re coming one more time. I dare you.”

That challenge contains all the previous mornings inside it.

All the waiting.

All the phone calls.

All the explanations.

The singer already knows the answer.

The person may speak again.

The words will still weigh nothing.

That is how the story ends.

Not with the unreliable person finally changing.

With the dependable person finally refusing to participate.

That is an important difference.

We cannot always change the person creating the problem.

Sometimes the only decision available is whether we keep giving the problem access to our time.

I have learned to respect people’s actions more than their speeches.

A person can tell me almost anything.

Time will tell me the rest.

That lesson took years to learn, and it probably cost me more frustration than it should have.

It also gave me this song.

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN may sound like an angry workplace anthem, but underneath the swearing and humour is a simple belief.

Your word should mean something.

When you tell somebody you will be there, understand that they may build their day around that promise.

When you accept responsibility, understand that somebody else is trusting you to carry it.

When something goes wrong, tell the truth.

People may be disappointed.

They may even be angry.

But honesty still leaves something to rebuild.

Repeated lies eventually leave nothing.

That is the story behind the song.

Years of work.

Years of promises.

Years of excuses.

Years of good people carrying the weight left by bad ones.

Then one final decision.

Enough.

SECTION THREE

LYRIC EXPLORATION

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN begins before the first proper verse.

The opening sounds like I am being challenged to finally say what has been sitting inside me.

“Alright Joe what’s pissing you off”

That question sets the entire song in motion.

It is not someone asking me for a polite explanation.

It sounds more like a voice pushing me to stop cleaning up the truth.

What has bothered you?

How long have you watched it?

How many excuses have you heard?

How many times have you given somebody another chance because you wanted to believe they would finally come through?

The answer is not one name.

It is years of experience.

That is why the opening moves through unfinished thoughts, questions, anger, and memory. It is the mind opening a drawer that has been packed too tightly for too long.

“How long you been in business to long what have you seen”

The wording is rough because the feeling is rough.

I was not trying to write a business seminar.

I was trying to capture what happens when somebody asks the right question at the wrong moment and everything comes out at once.

What have I seen?

Good workers.

Bad workers.

Honest mistakes.

Dishonest excuses.

People who built trust.

People who borrowed trust until there was none left.

The song begins by pulling all of that into the room.

“What do they say There coming the next day what happens big talk crooked walk”

That thought is the whole song before the music fully gets moving.

They are coming tomorrow.

They are serious this time.

They have everything straightened out.

They need the job.

They will not let you down again.

Then tomorrow arrives.

The promise walks one direction.

The person walks another.

“Big talk crooked walk” says it quickly.

The words are straight.

The actions are not.

That contrast runs through the entire lyric.

People often know exactly what honesty should sound like.

That does not mean they live honestly.

They can give you the right answer and still make the wrong choice.

“What’s their favorite saying I’m broke I got bills to pay”

I have heard that kind of pressure many times.

It is real.

People do have bills.

People do need work.

Families do depend on income.

I understand that.

What becomes difficult to understand is when someone uses financial pressure to ask for an opportunity and then treats that opportunity like it means nothing.

They tell you how badly they need the work.

You make room for them.

You adjust a schedule.

You give them a chance.

Then they disappear.

The problem is not that they are broke.

The problem is that they want the benefit of being trusted without carrying the responsibility that comes with it.

That is where sympathy starts wearing thin.

“Every word every line is one more reason for me to want to say goodbye”

At that point, the excuse itself almost becomes unimportant.

It is no longer about whether the truck broke down or the alarm failed.

It is the fact that another story has arrived.

Another explanation has taken the place of responsibility.

Every word does not repair the situation.

Every word pushes the relationship closer to the end.

The person may think they are talking their way back in.

They are actually talking their way out.

“Let’s set the story straight let’s make this heavier No mercy No filler”

That is the creative decision behind the song.

Do not soften it.

Do not turn it into a careful discussion about attendance.

Do not protect the feelings of the person who never protected anybody else’s time.

Make it heavy.

Make the chorus carry the frustration.

Remove anything that lets the excuse-maker hide.

No mercy does not mean violence.

It means no more pretending.

No more polishing the truth until the person being confronted can comfortably ignore it.

No filler means every line has to hit the same subject.

Your word.

Your actions.

Your pattern.

Your responsibility.

The opening also contains the rough statement:

“We’ll turn Chickens into worthless dirt a head punch might wake you up maybe you’ll keep track”

The anger is obvious.

It sounds like the kind of thought someone has when patience is gone and they are imagining what it might take to wake a person up.

The lyric is not a set of instructions.

It is frustration speaking in an exaggerated, aggressive voice.

That distinction matters.

The song is about cutting someone loose, not teaching anyone to attack them.

The stronger action comes immediately after.

“Walk away don’t look back”

That is the real answer.

Leave the cycle.

Stop waiting.

Stop arguing.

Stop giving another promise control over the day.

Sometimes walking away is the only action that finally ends the pattern.

Then the song strips everything down to two lines.

“You always say your coming
You never fucking show”

There is nowhere for the person to hide inside those words.

No complicated metaphor.

No long explanation.

What you say and what you do are standing beside each other.

They do not match.

That is the charge.

The line is not only about physically arriving at work.

It is about every promise that never becomes action.

Some people are always coming.

They are coming to help.

Coming to pay you back.

Coming to fix what they broke.

Coming to have the conversation.

Coming to become more responsible.

Coming to change.

The problem is that “coming” can become a permanent excuse for never arriving.

The future becomes somewhere they hide from the present.

“Quarter past truth, your already late”

I like this line because the clock becomes a witness.

The person has their version.

The clock has its own.

The clock does not argue.

It does not accept excuses.

It simply keeps moving.

“Quarter past truth” means the truth already arrived before the person did.

Their lateness has exposed the promise.

By the time they begin explaining, reality is already standing there.

“Five more minutes — that’s your favorite phrase”

Five more minutes can sound harmless.

Once or twice, it probably is.

Repeated often enough, it becomes a warning.

The phrase no longer means five minutes.

It means do not trust the time I just gave you.

It means keep waiting while I avoid telling you the truth.

That is what makes it insulting.

The problem is not only lateness.

The problem is asking another person to keep believing something you already know is false.

“Clock on the wall knows all your tricks”

The clock becomes almost like another person in the room.

It has watched this before.

It knows the routine.

It knows five minutes will become twenty.

It knows tomorrow may become next week.

It knows the excuse will arrive before the worker.

That line carries humour, but it also carries judgment.

You may fool people for a while.

You do not fool time.

“Every excuse makes me fucking sick”

That line does not say every emergency makes me sick.

It says every excuse.

There is a difference.

An explanation tells the truth about what happened.

An excuse protects the person from responsibility.

An explanation may be uncomfortable.

An excuse is designed to make somebody else accept the consequences.

That is what the anger is reacting to.

“You swear on names you don’t respect”

People sometimes make promises stronger by attaching someone else’s name to them.

They swear on their children.

Their parents.

Their family.

Someone they claim to love.

The oath is supposed to make the listener believe them.

But if the promise is broken again, the name meant nothing to them either.

That is why the line says they do not respect those names.

They use them like tools.

A person whose word has value does not need to keep borrowing the names of people they love.

Their own name should be enough.

“Smile real big while you dodge the check”

The smile in this line is not warmth.

It is avoidance.

Some people think charm can carry them past responsibility.

They joke.

They smile.

They act friendly.

They shift the conversation.

They hope personality will distract from what they owe.

The “check” can be money, but it can also mean accountability.

The moment has arrived when the person has to pay for what they promised.

Instead of facing it, they try to slide around it.

“Every promise comes cracked and thin”

A promise should feel solid.

This one is already damaged before it is spoken.

Cracked means it cannot hold pressure.

Thin means there is almost nothing behind it.

The person may believe they are offering reassurance.

The listener hears weakness because experience has already taught them what the promise is made of.

“You don’t arrive you fade again”

That line feels different from simply saying the person does not come.

They fade.

The calls stop.

The replies become slower.

The excuses become shorter.

Then there is silence.

It is a familiar disappearance.

The word “again” matters.

This is not a surprise.

It is a return to the same pattern.

The next part demands something direct.

“Say my name look me straight”

That is about honesty without hiding.

Do not send another message.

Do not make another excuse from a distance.

Look at the person whose time you wasted.

Say their name.

Acknowledge that another human being believed you.

Broken promises become easier when people turn the person they disappointed into an idea instead of a face.

Looking someone straight in the eye makes the damage harder to avoid.

“Your word don’t weigh a fucking ounce of faith”

A person’s word should carry weight because trust stands behind it.

Here, there is nothing left.

Not even an ounce.

The word “faith” matters because every promise asks somebody to believe in something they cannot yet see.

When I say I will be there tomorrow, you cannot see tomorrow.

You trust me to carry my word into it.

If I repeatedly fail, I am not only missing work.

I am teaching you that belief in me is foolish.

That is a much larger loss.

“I don’t wait I don’t bend
You don’t show that’s how it ends”

The person waiting finally takes back control.

Before this point, the unreliable person controlled the schedule.

They made the promise.

They created the delay.

They decided when to answer.

Now the decision belongs to the person who was left waiting.

I do not wait.

I do not bend.

If you do not show, the relationship ends.

That is not a threat.

It is a boundary.

The chorus arrives like a verdict.

“YOUR A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
YOU TALK THEN YOU QUIT”

The word “worthless” is not judging the value of a human life.

It is judging what the person has made their word worth inside this situation.

Their promise is worthless.

Their noise is worthless.

Their commitment is worthless because it cannot be trusted.

The chicken image adds cowardice, noise, and retreat.

They talk.

Then the moment requires action.

They quit.

“ALL THAT NOISE
BUT YOU AIN’T SHIT”

The line is meant to be brutal.

The person has built themselves through words.

They make claims.

They tell stories.

They explain their value.

The song tears that construction down.

Without action, all the noise has built nothing.

“ALWAYS GOT A REASON
WHEN IT’S TIME TO STAND UP
YOU DISAPPEAR FOR A SEASON”

The timing is the key.

The reason arrives exactly when responsibility arrives.

They do not disappear when they need something.

They disappear when somebody else needs them.

Then enough time passes and they return, hoping the last failure has been forgotten.

That is why “for a season” works.

It suggests a cycle.

They leave.

Time passes.

They come back.

The pattern begins again.

The second half of the chorus makes that repetition even clearer.

“SAY YOUR ON THE WAY
SAY IT AGAIN
SAY IT EVERY DAY”

The person has turned the same phrase into a routine.

The words should reassure.

Instead, they become almost ridiculous.

Say it again.

We already know how it ends.

The repetition mocks the empty promise because the person keeps repeating it as though frequency can replace truth.

“ALL TALK NO COMMIT
DON’T SAY SHIT
IF YOU AIN’T BUILT FOR IT”

That is one of the central messages of the song.

Do not make a commitment because you like how it sounds.

Do not say yes because you want approval in the moment.

Do not take responsibility you have no intention of carrying.

Honesty at the beginning may disappoint someone.

Dishonesty at the end usually causes more damage.

If you are not built for the work, say so.

If you cannot come, say so.

If you do not want the responsibility, do not accept it.

The truth may close one door.

A lie can close many.

“You hide behind luck behind bad timing
Behind fake apologies and perfect whining”

The word “behind” keeps repeating because the person is always using something as cover.

Luck.

Timing.

Apologies.

Complaints.

There is always another object between them and responsibility.

“Perfect whining” adds sarcasm.

They may not be perfect at the work, but they have become highly skilled at explaining why the work did not happen.

That is one of the bitter jokes inside the song.

“You blame the road the world the rain
But the problem’s been you the whole damn game”

This line strips away the hiding places.

The road may be difficult.

The world may be unfair.

The rain may delay work.

All of those things can be true.

But when the same result follows the same person into every situation, eventually the surroundings stop being the complete explanation.

At some point, you have to examine the one thing present in every failure.

Yourself.

That is uncomfortable.

It is also where change becomes possible.

As long as everything is somebody else’s fault, there is nothing you believe you need to change.

“You borrow trust like it’s free to take
But never return what you fucking break”

This is one of the strongest ideas in the song because trust often begins as a loan.

Someone does not know you yet.

They give you an opportunity.

They believe your résumé.

They accept your handshake.

They schedule work around your promise.

They are lending you trust before you have fully earned it.

That trust is not free.

It carries responsibility.

When the person breaks it and walks away, someone else pays the cost.

The line uses the language of borrowing because the excuse-maker often acts as though trust is unlimited.

It is not.

Every broken promise reduces what remains.

“I showed up solid night and day
You disappeared — same old way”

This is the contrast between the dependable person and the excuse-maker.

One stood solid.

One faded.

One carried the responsibility.

One left it behind.

The person singing is not claiming perfection.

They are claiming presence.

I was there.

I did my part.

I carried the days and nights.

You answered with the same disappearance I had already seen before.

That is why resentment grows.

The work was not impossible.

Somebody did it.

It just was not the person who promised.

“You talk like steel you move like smoke”

Steel is strong.

Heavy.

Dependable.

Smoke is impossible to hold.

The person describes themselves like steel.

Their actions reveal smoke.

They want the reputation of strength without the weight of responsibility.

The image says more than calling them a liar.

It shows the gap between the identity they sell and the reality others experience.

“Every oath you swear is a fucking joke”

Once trust is destroyed, even serious words can sound funny.

Not because the situation is amusing.

Because the listener has heard the performance too many times.

Another oath does not strengthen the promise.

It exposes how little the previous oaths meant.

“No more calls no second guess
Your silence signed your address”

This is one of the lines I would want people to sit with.

The person did not have the courage to give a straight answer.

They chose silence.

That silence became the answer anyway.

They did not sign a resignation.

They did not clearly say they were finished.

Their absence signed it for them.

“Your silence signed your address” means the place where you can now be found is inside your own disappearance.

You chose silence.

That is where the relationship ends.

There are no more calls because the person left waiting has finally understood what silence was saying.

The chorus returns because the pattern returns.

That repetition is not there only because songs need choruses.

It mirrors the experience.

The excuse happens again.

The promise happens again.

The disappearance happens again.

The chorus becomes the answer every time.

The rough bridge says:

“Why act shy every word is a lie The only truth is you don’t try”

There is no point pretending to be embarrassed after the pattern has already been repeated.

The person may lower their voice.

Act ashamed.

Say they feel terrible.

But shame without change becomes another performance.

The line says the only truth left is the lack of effort.

Not the apology.

Not the explanation.

The pattern.

“Why pretend to be something you’re not every word is like a shit on that spot”

The wording is intentionally ugly.

The feeling is disgust.

Every new claim adds another mess to the same place.

The person keeps trying to repair their image through words, but the words only make the situation worse.

There comes a point when another promise is not hopeful.

It is insulting.

“Enough no more excuses”

That may be the simplest line in the song.

It is also the turning point.

Everything before it has been evidence.

Everything after it is the decision.

Enough.

Not one more explanation.

Not one more delayed arrival.

Not one more chance purchased with words.

Then the emotional temperature changes.

“I don’t hate you I don’t care”

This is colder than the chorus.

The chorus is still angry.

This line is finished.

Hatred keeps a connection alive.

It keeps the person inside your thoughts.

Not caring means they no longer control your emotions.

That can sound harsh, but sometimes it is the final stage of letting go.

“I just stopped pretending you were ever there”

The person may have physically appeared at times, but they were never dependable enough to be counted as present.

Being there is more than occupying space.

It means carrying responsibility.

It means becoming part of the plan.

It means being someone others can rely on.

If nobody can depend on you, your presence starts feeling like another absence.

“No hard feelings no regrets
Just facts carved in cement”

Cement fits the world the song came from.

Once it hardens, it holds the shape of what was placed inside it.

The facts have hardened too.

The person may still argue.

They may still offer another version.

But the history is already set.

You said you would come.

You did not.

You promised again.

You disappeared again.

Those facts do not need decoration.

They are carved in cement.

The final chorus now sounds different because the decision has already been made.

At the beginning, the chorus is accusation.

At the end, it is dismissal.

The listener is no longer trying to convince the person to change.

They are naming the pattern one final time before closing the door.

“Say your coming one more time
I dare you”

That challenge carries dark humour.

Everyone already knows the person will probably say it again.

That is what they do.

The dare is not asking for another chance.

It is saying go ahead.

Repeat the same line.

Let us both hear how empty it sounds now.

“I dare you”

The repetition makes the moment more personal.

The patience is gone.

The person singing is standing directly in front of the lie instead of waiting at the other end of a telephone.

“You’re just a show no go”

That phrase reduces the entire performance to four words.

Show means appearance.

Talk.

Promises.

Confidence.

Go means action.

Movement.

Arrival.

Work.

The person has one without the other.

They know how to perform commitment.

They do not know how to live it.

“YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
Get the fuck out”

The ending does not ask the person to improve.

It does not leave the door partly open.

It ends the arrangement.

That is important because the song is not about endless patience.

It is about the moment when endless patience becomes self-disrespect.

There is a time to understand.

A time to help.

A time to teach.

A time to give another chance.

There is also a time to stop allowing somebody else’s pattern to become your daily problem.

“Get the fuck out” is the final boundary.

No more speeches.

No more tomorrow.

No more five minutes.

The song begins with a question about what has been pissing me off.

It ends with the answer removed from the room.

That is the complete emotional journey.

Frustration becomes confrontation.

Confrontation becomes recognition.

Recognition becomes a boundary.

The title may be funny.

The language may be aggressive.

The chorus may sound like an insult.

Underneath all of it is a serious argument about character.

What does your word weigh?

What happens to the people who believe you?

How many times can trust be borrowed before nothing remains?

When does patience become permission?

When does giving another chance become unfair to the people who never needed one?

Those questions are why the song travels beyond work.

A worker can hear it.

An employer can hear it.

A friend can hear it.

A partner can hear it.

A family member can hear it.

Anyone who has waited for somebody who was always “on the way” can hear it.

The details will change from one listener to another.

The feeling will not.

The song does not demand perfection.

It demands honesty.

It does not insult people for making one mistake.

It confronts people who turn mistakes into a permanent excuse.

It does not say everyone must be the strongest worker.

It says your word should have enough strength to carry what you place on it.

That is what these lyrics are defending.

Not only work ethic.

Trust.

Not only punctuality.

Respect.

Not only anger.

The right to stop waiting for someone who has already shown you they are not coming.

SECTION FOUR

REFLECTION

When I finished writing YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN, I realized it wasn’t really about the people who never showed up.

It was about the people who always did.

The dependable worker rarely gets celebrated.

Nobody throws a party because someone arrived on time again.

Nobody writes headlines about the person who quietly did exactly what they promised.

Most of the time, they finish the job, go home, and do it all again tomorrow.

They’re easy to overlook because consistency doesn’t attract much attention.

Excuses do.

Drama does.

Broken promises do.

The dependable people usually become part of the background because everyone assumes they’ll be there.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons I wanted to write this song.

I wanted to remind people that reliability still matters.

Your word still matters.

Showing up still matters.

That may sound old-fashioned to some people.

I don’t care.

Some values don’t become outdated simply because the world changes around them.

Trust is still earned.

Respect is still earned.

Character is still earned.

None of those things can be bought.

None of them can be borrowed forever.

Eventually every one of us reaches the point where our actions introduce us long before we do.

I’ve learned something else over the years.

People often spend a great deal of time trying to build the right image.

They want people to think they’re successful.

Hard-working.

Dependable.

Honest.

Confident.

The strange part is that none of those things can be created by talking about them.

They grow quietly through repetition.

One decision.

One promise.

One completed responsibility.

Then another.

Before long, people stop asking whether you’ll come through.

They already know.

That kind of reputation is worth protecting.

The opposite reputation grows the same way.

One excuse.

One broken promise.

One missed opportunity.

Another tomorrow.

Another disappointment.

Eventually people stop asking if you’re coming.

They start planning as though you aren’t.

That should make every one of us stop and think.

Not only about the people we’ve been disappointed by.

About ourselves.

If someone built an opinion of me based only on my actions, what would they honestly see?

Would they see someone who finishes what they start?

Would they see someone whose word carries weight?

Would they see someone they could confidently depend on?

Those questions don’t belong only to employers.

They belong to parents.

Friends.

Neighbours.

Business owners.

Employees.

Partners.

Every one of us leaves a trail behind through the promises we keep and the promises we break.

This song isn’t asking anyone to become perfect.

Perfection has never existed.

Life gets in the way.

Plans change.

People struggle.

Mistakes happen.

The difference has never been perfection.

The difference has always been honesty.

Tell people the truth.

Respect their time.

Own your mistakes.

Keep your word whenever you possibly can.

If you can’t, don’t hide behind another story.

Most people are far more willing to forgive an honest mistake than they are another dishonest excuse.

That has certainly been true in my own life.

As I look back over the years, I don’t remember every worker I hired.

I don’t remember every customer.

I don’t remember every job.

What I do remember are the people whose word meant something.

They’re the ones who left the biggest impression on me.

Not because they talked the loudest.

Because they never needed to.

Their work spoke first.

Their character spoke louder.

That’s the kind of reputation I respect.

That’s the kind of reputation I hope never goes out of style.

If this song makes you think about someone who constantly let you down, I understand.

Most of us have met that person.

But I hope it also reminds you of someone who never did.

The person who quietly showed up.

The person who carried more than their share.

The person who made life easier simply because you knew you could count on them.

Those people deserve more appreciation than they usually receive.

If you’re one of those people, thank you.

People like you hold far more together than most of the world ever notices.

And if this song causes even one person to think twice before making another promise they don’t intend to keep, then it has already done something worthwhile.

Thank you for spending your time with me and with another chapter in the MOITA Library.

Every song I write begins somewhere in life.

My hope is that each one leaves you with something you can carry into your own.

Maybe that’s a question.

Maybe it’s a lesson.

Maybe it’s simply a reminder that your word is one of the few things nobody else can build for you.

Protect it.

Once people know they can count on you, you’ve earned something more valuable than applause.

You’ve earned trust.

MOITA

WHERE EVERY SONG TELLS A STORY

EVERY STORY TEACHES SOMETHING

SECTION FIVE

MOITA DOCUMENTARY & LEARNING CENTRE

FROM THE JOB SITE TO EVERYDAY LIFE

At first, YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN sounds like a song about work.

Spend more time with it, and it becomes a song about something much larger.

Trust.

Responsibility.

Reputation.

Character.

Those four things affect almost every relationship we will ever have.

Whether you’re building houses, driving a truck, teaching children, running a business, volunteering in your community, or raising a family, people eventually decide whether they can depend on you.

That decision is rarely based on one moment.

It is built over time.

One action at a time.

THE VALUE OF YOUR WORD

Before written contracts became common, many businesses were built on little more than a handshake and a person’s reputation.

Even today, reputation remains one of the most valuable things a person can own.

A good reputation cannot guarantee success, but a poor reputation can quietly close opportunities before you even know they existed.

People remember the person who arrived.

They also remember the person who never did.

The lesson is simple.

Every promise either strengthens your reputation or weakens it.

Very few promises leave it unchanged.

WHY TRUST MATTERS

Trust is difficult to measure, but its effects can be seen almost everywhere.

Strong families depend on it.

Strong friendships depend on it.

Successful workplaces depend on it.

Communities depend on it.

Without trust, people spend more time checking on one another than working with one another.

When trust grows, cooperation becomes easier.

Communication becomes more honest.

Problems are solved more quickly because people believe what they hear.

That doesn’t mean everyone agrees.

It means they believe people are speaking honestly.

That foundation changes everything.

ACCOUNTABILITY IS NOT ABOUT PUNISHMENT

Many people hear the word “accountability” and immediately think of blame.

I’ve never looked at it that way.

Real accountability is simply accepting ownership for your decisions.

If something goes well, share the credit.

If something goes wrong, own your part.

Those two habits earn respect faster than almost anything else.

People generally understand mistakes.

They struggle much more with excuses.

The willingness to say, “I was wrong,” often builds more trust than pretending nothing happened.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN EXCUSE AND AN EXPLANATION

This song draws a clear line between an explanation and an excuse.

An explanation tells the truth about what happened.

An excuse tries to remove responsibility from the person who made the decision.

Sometimes the words can sound similar.

The intention behind them is completely different.

An honest explanation usually ends with responsibility.

An excuse usually ends with someone else being blamed.

Learning the difference can improve relationships at work and at home.

REPUTATION TAKES YEARS

One of the most important lessons business taught me is that a reputation grows slowly.

People watch.

They notice.

They remember.

They may not say much, but they’re paying attention.

If you consistently keep your word, your reputation quietly grows stronger.

If you consistently break your word, that reputation grows too.

The difficult part is that rebuilding trust usually takes much longer than losing it.

That’s why protecting your word is one of the smartest investments you can ever make.

GOOD WORKERS OFTEN GO UNNOTICED

This song criticizes unreliable people, but it also honours dependable ones.

The people who quietly carry extra responsibility.

The people who finish the job without demanding recognition.

The people who solve problems instead of creating them.

Many businesses, families, and communities continue functioning because people like that exist.

They may never receive awards.

They may never become famous.

But they deserve respect.

Without dependable people, the world becomes a much harder place to live.

QUESTIONS WORTH ASKING YOURSELF

Every song in the MOITA Library begins with my experience, but I hope it eventually leads readers to examine their own lives.

This song leaves me with a few questions that are worth asking from time to time.

If I give my word, do people believe me?

Am I becoming someone others can rely on?

Do I take responsibility when I make mistakes?

Do I apologize honestly, or do I look for someone else to blame?

If somebody described my reputation without me being in the room, what would they say?

Those aren’t easy questions.

They’re honest ones.

RELATED MOITA SONGS

If this song connected with you, you may also enjoy exploring other MOITA songs that examine responsibility, trust, and character from different perspectives.

NOBODY explores standing your ground and earning respect under pressure.
NO APOLOGIES examines accountability and the consequences of standing by your convictions.
TWO FACE looks at hypocrisy and the difference between appearance and reality.
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH is about reaching the point where you refuse to accept unhealthy patterns any longer.

Together, these songs continue the conversation from different angles while remaining connected through the values that shape the MOITA Library.

CONTINUE EXPLORING

If this subject interests you, these organizations provide reliable information about trust, leadership, communication, and workplace effectiveness.

The Center for Creative Leadership offers research and practical resources on leadership, accountability, and building trust within organizations.
The Society for Human Resource Management provides articles and research on workplace culture, employee accountability, communication, and professional development.
The Government of Canada Job Bank includes resources on employability skills, workplace expectations, reliability, teamwork, and professional responsibility.

You might also enjoy exploring books, documentaries, podcasts, and interviews about leadership, personal responsibility, workplace culture, communication, and the psychology of trust.

The more you understand how trust is earned, the more valuable your own word becomes.

That lesson reaches far beyond any job site.

It reaches into every relationship we build throughout our lives.

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

CATEGORY

Workplace | Character | Accountability | Educational Rock

PRIMARY EMOTION

Frustration

ALSO FITS

WHAT THIS SONG IS ABOUT

THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG

WHY I WROTE THIS SONG

WHY THIS MATTERS TO ME

WHY THIS SONG FITS MOITA

READ THIS FIRST

FULL LYRICS

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
Get the fuck out

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 1

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 2

SECTION TWO

THE STORY

SECTION THREE

LYRIC EXPLORATION

SECTION FOUR

REFLECTION

MOITA

WHERE EVERY SONG TELLS A STORY

EVERY STORY TEACHES SOMETHING

SECTION FIVE

MOITA DOCUMENTARY & LEARNING CENTRE

RELATED MOITA SONGS

CONTINUE EXPLORING

MOITA

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

CATEGORY

Workplace | Character | Accountability | Educational Rock

PRIMARY EMOTION

Frustration

ALSO FITS

WHAT THIS SONG IS ABOUT

THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG

WHY I WROTE THIS SONG

WHY THIS MATTERS TO ME

WHY THIS SONG FITS MOITA

READ THIS FIRST

FULL LYRICS

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN

YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN Get the fuck out

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 1

SECTION ONE

LYRIC JOURNEY

PART 2

SECTION TWO

THE STORY

SECTION THREE

LYRIC EXPLORATION

SECTION FOUR

REFLECTION

MOITA

WHERE EVERY SONG TELLS A STORY

EVERY STORY TEACHES SOMETHING

SECTION FIVE

MOITA DOCUMENTARY & LEARNING CENTRE

RELATED MOITA SONGS

CONTINUE EXPLORING

MOITA

YOUR JUST A WORTHLESS CHICKEN
Get the fuck out

FRUSTRATION

GREASE THE WHEEL

WHAT CAN I SAY

YOU’RE A WORTHLESS CHICKEN