Two beer cans, two chairs, one mailbox. It will never be enough. It will never be early enough. We'll sit there and wait for the handouts until they dry up. Until the time it makes no more sense for anyone to dream and do and look for a better tomorrow. It is a sad, sad day when you can't walk to the mailbox at the end of a hard work day, pick up your mail and your responsibilities. A love letter from someone or a letter that says I'm okay mom and dad - I miss you all. These chairs of social addiction, of a system with no end, of generations with no example, of expectation with no obligation, are rotting the roots of our existence and cutting through color and creed. It is a sign for a nation to awaken to the cruelness of these sad chairs of defeat.